Beneath the soil, so dark and deep,
A silent dream begins to sleep.
A tiny shell, no grander plan—
Just hope held tight in nature’s hand.
No voice to cry, no eyes to see,
Yet harbors vast infinity.
A promise wrapped in earthen bed,
Of roots to grow and green to spread.
The rain will fall, the sun will rise,
And call it forth to meet the skies.
It splits, it aches, it slowly climbs,
Through seasons’ dance and passing time.
A leaf, a stem, a bloom, a tree—
From silent soil to symphony.
It never asked what it might be,
It simply rose, and learned to be.
So may we too, though small, begin—
With strength unseen, and light within.
For every forest, thought, or deed
Was once a quiet, waiting seed.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This is a beautiful and moving poem that uses the simple, universal metaphor of a seed to explore profound themes of potential, growth, and the quiet strength inherent in all beginnings.