The Seeds of Knowledge

The wools and log cabin warmth's of winter gently settle like dust in the closet. The soils of pastures and wilderness' breathe a deep, gasping breath as the snows return to mountains, and the frosts recede like glaciers from the barren landscape. The sleeping Earth thaws and the land ignites with life with endless roaming clouds rolling and rippling across the blue ocean skies, blossoming once again in the metamorphosis of time.

The dirt becomes raw with moisture and dampness. It is decaying into simplicity. It churns and rots in the cycle of death and rebirth until it becomes diamond. Born of pulverized stone and the leaves of Fall trees; born of maggots and earthworms and deceased pedals of wilted rainbows.

A seed is ignited with life. A slight tremor from within the womb. Cracks. Splinters. A spirit is born into decay & darkness, protected as it grows resilient and determined in its solitude. Making its pilgrimage towards the unknown above. It does not know the purpose of its instruction, it only knows that it must rise from the darkness. The earth begin to toil and crack as the sapling tunnels on blindly towards the red glow from above.

BURSTING from the womb with wings a'spread to the golden eternal brilliance of endless skies, the seed is inducted into being. Tonight the young seed will be introduced to a universe that can only be understood in the astral void between death and rebirth. It only knew where to begin by faith and intuition, however in the grips of mortality it has nothing to offer the world but its own confusion. It is guided by instincts encoded in ancient strands; a sacred compass that lights the path at the fork in the road.

The sun seeps ever high into the vast blue ocean above. The seedling grows strong as it matures. It becomes studied & knowledgeable of its existence. It wants to grow tall! It strains & reaches for the undying motherly light above and daydreams of the many sacrifices and gifts of gratitude it will deliver to its caretaker when it arrives at the doorstep.

The world is absorbed in green and specks of budding color. The world awakens to the spirit in the sky. The seedling has grown taller and stronger and its leaves unfurl and beg for sunlit alms. Each passing moon brings infant seedling into the world around the plant and it grows happy to pass the days in the company of others.

On ground level the earth crawls with new life. Native ants run about in production lines building empires, spiders with tribal masks lurk in the shadows patiently waiting for grasshoppers to pass their hidden knolls. Hungry birds emerge from the south blanketing the land with a warm salty breeze, and they flock to the forest and take refuge in the trees.

The plant strives every hour to care for its neighbors that have now become friends. It exemplifies the courage and persistence necessary to survive and thrive in the brilliance of the void. It is admired as a sage and is the wisest of the living. In time its confidence grows as it work tireless and unwavering skyward to greet the great fiery orb in the ocean above. It seeks answers to questions that existence and ancient compasses do not provide.

Years of diligence pass and the plant is now a young tree. It grows fruits from it's iron limbs to thank the birds for bringing warmth and life to its home. Its roots have grown deep and hold tight to the earth in a cosmic union. Its trunk has grown sturdy and tall, towering over brothers and sisters of grass and plants and insects below. Its leaves are broad and disciplined. It's branches reach to the heavens and spread a shadowy canopy over the earth. It dreams of reaching the clouds and billows its leaves of branches into bundles-- and ripples, the green holy cloud of the terrestrial world.. It feels mighty at the top of the world and begs to the stars that it retain it humility.

The dirt from which it was born seems so far away. Time passes in waves and the tree grows old, as all things do, and ceases to grow towards the sky. It has admired the skies all of its life and has forgotten its pursuit of the blue ocean above. It has grown wise and wears its tributes like monuments on its rough, gritty bark to honor its devotion to the dirt and earth from which it came. Its branches are titian's and its leaves are alms---together they praise the skies. It meditates upon the earth. Its soul emits the radiance of a crystalline palace and upholds the ascetic devotion of myriad Boddhisatvas... It has come to realize in its holy tranquility, and meditative stillness, that everything that is and ever was is born of the same cosmic star-dusts dispersed throughout the cosmos at the birth of cosmic existence; that we are simply the universe experiencing itself through its own conscious eyes. And it is liberated into Nirvana.