Upward into life, they rush –
Though gravity bids them, “Stay!” –
Channeled this and that away,
To feed an undying tree
With dim dreams of Liberty,
‘Til limb, leaf, and blossom blush.
Their ripening fates now bend
The branches that they adorn.
The nutriments that they’ve borne –
Some gathered, some there at birth –
Conspiring, drop them to earth,
Where all meet a common end
As seeds of uncommon fruit.
No Fount of Wisdom or Youth
Nor unerring Sun of Truth
Nor unending Wind of Change
Can prophesy or arrange
Which of these seeds will take root.