The Seed
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Beneath the frozen ground all winter
the seed is doing its invisible work—
pressing upward through the packed indifference
of the cold that makes it neither stop nor shirk.
We cannot see it from the surface.
The field looks empty, white, and done.
But the seed has its own appointment
with the warming and the sun.
Whatever you are waiting for right now
is pressing upward in the dark below—
the waiting ground does not mean it isn't growing,
it means the time has not arrived to show.
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Beneath the frozen ground all winter
the seed is doing its invisible work—
pressing upward through the packed indifference
of the cold that makes it neither stop nor shirk.
We cannot see it from the surface.
The field looks empty, white, and done.
But the seed has its own appointment
with the warming and the sun.
Whatever you are waiting for right now
is pressing upward in the dark below—
the waiting ground does not mean it isn't growing,
it means the time has not arrived to show.
