Sacred Seeds
...bear a fruit called serenity.
It took a few years before I could find and cultivate them. The seeds were patiently waiting in my heartbreak and sadness. They germinated in darkness and began to flourish in solitude. My questioning and negativity seemed to be a kind of fertilizer. Or maybe it was my skepticism, and all the years of unwept tears that watered them from within. I don’t know what exactly, but something made serenity grow in the barren and empty landscapes of hopelessness and isolation. When I returned home I brought serenity with me. Amidst a normal life serenity seems a bit ordinary, like a common house plant or lamp in the spare bedroom. But out of doors, in our wild animal existence, serenity flourishes and sustains, whether it waxes or wanes.
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