Where is the beginning?
Where is the end?

Half a circle

To set out each spring,
until walking gets harder-
to watch others walk,
after the ice, the fog, the rain -
We walk through the nights, the days;
we walk through mornings
and evenings.
I tell myself,
I live on moonlight, I live on sunlight
I am passing.
I walk a circle.
Where is the beginning?
Where is the end?
May be for all of us it is only half a circle,
easier to see
where love touches at a start
and touches again at an end
and then,
when I walk,
I carry the seeds of life
and scatter them
to grow

into green fields,
yellow meadows,
red rose gardens.

Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 687 times
Written on 2009-01-23 at 17:36

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Rob Graber
The seeds of life make us scatter them;
Then, having had their way with us,
They leave us
To wither and die.

Just the selfish-gene scientific take on the seeds-of-life business; enjoyed the poem.