It is an often trampled upon seed
buried deep within the fertile
ground of the heart,
lying dormant within the dark
fields of the soul.
It cries out for the nurturing
rains of belonging,
mourns for the life giving
nutrients of passion and desire.
Like a prisoner it screams out to be
released from the dark soil of emotion
so that it may grow into a fragrant
flower to grace the world with its
most wonderful beauty.
Donavon Scott Vinson