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I will here plant a seed
and feel the compost of forgotten years,
and breathe the warm air of this, the present.
And wait in the world to see
where it will sprout.
I will ask nothing of it
but only that it grow to be
Itself.
I leave the harvest, or scent of flower, or weed
unknown to myself, alone to God; Here,
Under the sun and from my own self freed,
I plant a seed.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
Our world