New Shoots

In the darkness of the earth

None shall see the sun,

And yet it is there:

Waiting, wondering when growth will come.

In the pitch of night,

Nothing is more certain

Than light will crack the dark,

A pendulum that must swing up

As surely as down,

A child that must grow

As surely as we must die,

And if the seed of death is carried by life,

Then death must usher in new life;

A potential bursting into being,

Rocks tumbling down a hill.

Let us not rejoice in the hidden acorn,

Nor the mighty oak we may one day be,

But the first green shoots of morning,

The dew not yet trampled,

By the Kingdom of the dawn.