Tiny Seed
For a few years now, I’ve been filling spiral notebooks with my simple songs, full of joy, full of sadness, full of wisdom, full of nothing but themselves. I offer them to you, with great humility, and with genuine need to share, to be heard, to hear my own heart aloud above the din in my head. On this morning I am raw. News is coming at me too fast and cutting me too deeply. I gotta tell you this so I don’t look for solace from unreliable sources, or seek answers where only mystery lives and reigns. It’s a sunny summer day, still the fog hangs heavily right behind my eyes. I read a story about new life, which reminds me of my own death. I am only a jealous spectator to the miracle of birth. Yet somehow I know the power to author life goes even deeper than the terms son and daughter, and that at the core of my being is a tiny seed which I will never see in full blossom. Therefore, I do whatever it is I do the very best that I can. I take what is given to me and return the words to you, along with a loving smile and simple thank you for receiving them.
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