Courtesy Facebook
As squirrels find their sunflower
High up on a green tower
So we die and then we climb
Above the garden plot of time
Where God has planted where He chose
Between the seconds us in rows,
Asks us in the afternoon
“Will you be climbing to Me soon?
Then move this way to where the blade
Of immortality is made
For it has flowered over time
And now the dusk advances—climb!”
How can I be the one who’s planted
And the climber too—the answer?
Every being is a seed,
A plant, a soul and then a need