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Coming Home

Seeds of Love

By Rick Henry Christopher Published 4 years ago • Updated 4 years ago • 2 min read
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I was put on this journey

My vessel wailing and whirring

Drifting through invisible

Drifting through the air

≈≈≈

Full grown from a wandering seed

My feet have rooted

They are planted

But tangled in the weeds

≈≈≈

I've progressed through this desert

On roads that are treacherous

My clothes are torn and smell afoul

I haven't the will to wash them

≈≈≈

I'm on the run

Running from that hope of light

In my hand my heart is pounding

I'm hiding from the sun

≈≈≈

Living in the dark

Hiding in the night

My heart is rigid

Gritty like the sand

≈≈≈

I care not for anything

My shadow in the dark

Away from love

In obscure

Running from the promise

≈≈≈

I am restless

I need to keep moving

Dressed in darkness

Dressed in gloom

The walls are caving in

I've reached a dead-end in this maze

≈≈≈

Repeating lost

Repeating lost

I am in a haze

≈≈≈

Are you there?

I cannot see you

The fog is very thick

≈≈≈

No beginning and no end

But I hear you calling

Through the chambers

Through the black hole

It all seems so intense

≈≈≈

I hear a whisper in the breeze

But I refuse to listen

Distant roads are calling

I don't want to answer

My ears are burning

They are aching

Deaf to the voices from the clouds

≈≈≈

There are signs all over me

In unexpected places

But I just keep on going

Past the beauty and the sunshine

≈≈≈

After years of running

My mind is scorched

My legs have worn

I'm in pain

And I am crawling

My throat is parched

I need a drink

≈≈≈

Up ahead

It seems so far

I see a paradise

A river streaming to a lake

I've finally reached the shore

≈≈≈

The air is still

The birds are quiet

I hear the water running

A stream of beauty in my view

I run to see tranquility

≈≈≈

Kneeling by the glistening water

I cup my blistered hands

With this drink I am refreshed

An infant born from death

≈≈≈

The road's been long

The desert dry

But I am home again

The seeds of love were planted here

And now I see them growing

artsurreal poetryperformance poetryinspirationalnature poetry

About the Creator

Rick Henry Christopher

Writing fulfills my need for intellectual stimulus, emotional release, and soothing the bruises of the day.

I’m an open book. I’m not afraid to show my face or speak my mind

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    Written by Rick Henry Christopher