by Jon Coe

Created on: June 09, 2009

Dormant little pods, waiting to be planted
a thousand to one, life to be granted
Into the soil, we scatter and freely sow
some seeds will whither and others, will grow

In my brain, thoughts miraculously feed
ideas manifest and some turn to seed
Give me a theory, and I will churn it round
perhaps it will take root within this organic ground

I sense perpetual regeneration and evolution
everything around me, refreshes for solution
Each strain, stronger and better than ever before
reseeding and germinating, oiling this revolving door

Learn more about this author, Jon Coe.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.