The fruit rotted under the shade of its mother tree, no longer needed by the seed. Having served their purpose, the fibers of the pieces of pulp dissolved, slowly, imperceptibly. Protection was gone. The seed was alone. Only that which could grow, change, and begin to exist anew remained.
The seed sat on its bed of earth for some time, not yet ready to grow. But as the seed was washed by the rains, and the last pieces of pulp were stripped from it, the seed nestled into the earth below it. It became entangled in the roots of grass and clover.
In solidarity with its surrounding plants, the seed began to germinate, passively bursting through its casing - that which had protected it for so long as it was hidden inside the delicious pulp.
The stem was small. It had no leaves. But it was there, and it was growing. As the sun came up in the morning, the sprout reached for the East. The tiny sprout longed to pass the grass and clover, to bathe in the sunlight it had waited for for so long.
Even though it was just beginning its new life, it knew it was home.
The seed sat on its bed of earth for some time, not yet ready to grow. But as the seed was washed by the rains, and the last pieces of pulp were stripped from it, the seed nestled into the earth below it. It became entangled in the roots of grass and clover.
In solidarity with its surrounding plants, the seed began to germinate, passively bursting through its casing - that which had protected it for so long as it was hidden inside the delicious pulp.
The stem was small. It had no leaves. But it was there, and it was growing. As the sun came up in the morning, the sprout reached for the East. The tiny sprout longed to pass the grass and clover, to bathe in the sunlight it had waited for for so long.
Even though it was just beginning its new life, it knew it was home.
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