My mother has a
Hole in her heart. It
Is the size of a small
Rock. I think that
Life is more sad than
Happy. The seed of a
Fruit is also bitter. So maybe
The core of things is ungood.
But perhaps I am wrong, for
Inside the seed deeper still is
Life, inside is a map, inside is alive
And inside always searches for the
Means to grow, inside is a
Blueprint for building. Root, then stem then
Leaf then trunk then branch than fruit.
Life for death and death for life.
Like my mother, I too have a
hole in my heart. And like a seed I

Die before I 
Grow.