Lost Seed

"What I want most, is to know what you hear in the silence between us." — William C. Hannan

Dear Child,

Can you hear my cry to the ocean? It may seem like the roaring waves against these jagged rocks have blocked out my screams, but I'm still calling.

There is no silence as I beckon your arrival. There is only fear of your actuality. Even though the thunderous skies and hollowing nights lay my soul in darkening trepidation, I'm still here, under the moon, breathlessly waiting for your unveiling.

Are you lost child? Has Fall finally taken hold of this seed? Are you falling from this tree only to become my habitual revere? Just know child, even if my demise is met with ineffectual fate, I will sift through the cosmos until I've fully ascertained our existence.

Dear child, can you hear her prayer? As her embers turn to ash, hopeless expectation and low ink on this parchment I do fear. Dust on her journal, a womb empty to be, I don't know how much longer she can stay afloat out at sea.

There is no silence as we beckon your arrival, only heavy soil and Lost Seed.

- Brandon Yaeger