The Cycle of Becoming

​

a peach eaten by life

until only its pit

remained:

inedible,

discarded,
for how can its pit

please its partaker

as its flesh once did?

​

buried in its tomb,

The Lord's justice feel to err;
for the rain's wrath

sets upon its grave;

each drop, a lash

of God's whip;
a double-edge hook

readying the soil

for it to sprout

from its prison

​

and finally, within its pit,

the catacombs are emptied

for it split its headstone in two resurrecting as
no object of indulgence

but a dynamic entity

defined by growth

​

an alchemist rearranging

the fabric of existence

transmuting rays to branches

dirt to blossoms

rivers to peaches

giving more
by taking as much

as it once gave

when it was

but a peach

​

shade, beauty, and fruits

are ripples of reality

left in its wake

as it climbs over itself

sending branches

on a journey

to the clouds

​​

branches it once,

as a tossed seed,

longed to reattach to --

branches now generated

from its very being

​

branches it once

looked up to

while blaming itself

for not having more flesh

for teeth to tear into

when, in truth,

it lacked the understanding

to even fathom
what it needed to become.

​

for "many are called

but few are chosen" (22:14)

as almost all are chosen

to be plucked and eaten

as all are given the choice

to see our fall

as a summoning

to transform

or a sentence

to be buried

​