Fertilize

There is no space if it can’t contain There is no being if there is no strain The hollow heavens and the secret earth gives home to death, or call it birth The mushy moss and the bare concrete turn to gregarious ground with the bitter sweet Your melancholy melody reverberate the roots Your laughter echoes and bears new fruit The brittle bones are all that’s left The company you keep is grounded with death Such a strange place for a lively soul Your fluids fertilize the dirt to become whole Without the support of your stem, life would welt You give essence to the seed and sprouts felt Once buried in the filth in a single place, but now lush presence thrives, and derives from Grace