​My fall
meteoric
from the outer
space.
A trail of
debris,
cosmic dust,
in my wake.
Plunged
beneath the
surface
buried
deep in
the core.
Where I
incubated,
content with
being
left alone.
Then one day,
wanted more.
So I reached
for the sun,
unfurled,
my tender
leaves
that soaked up
the energy
I now use
to conceive
the fruits
of my imagination
consumed,
their seeds
dispersed.
Ideas spread
from
bloom to bloom
like pollen
across the earth.
The petals bright,
the fragrance
divine.
The planting
goes on after fall
germinating
mind to mind.

M. Zane McClellan

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