| The seed |
| The seed that sits in anger white A need that whets the appetite To feed, beget a world of spite And deeds that fit the hole just right It bleeds inside and thrives despite Its greed, survives with teeth that bite A weed that chokes and sheathes the plight To heed the broken line of sight Greet the woken kind of night Meet the token mind that might Sweep the slate and pose a fight Weep away the throes, incite Deeper ways to hone insight Keep aligned and curve the sleight Steeper climbs can lure respite |