between memories remembered

and forgotten 

and speculation of what's

to come

the only thing that's true

is now

and real just might be

really real

and love been more awakened

as germination of a seed

than emergence from

a dream

so that the risk imagined

was the risk already taken

when the crack formed

in the shell

and what is growing doesn't care

if we're skeptical enough to ask

if the sun is out there waiting

for it to reach the sky

not negligent enough to view

the subterraneanous of love

as crafted from delusion

or only just a phase

but knowing in the now

the essential of the earth

to roots for stems in winds

that have to still stand tall

so that there is honouring

in the journey

exceeding blind frustration 

for groping for the day

and what is growing

matters less

than that it dared

to face the dark

for the chance to reach the light

for the chance to find its way