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I will here plant a seed

and feel the compost of forgotten years,

and breathe the warm air of this, the present. 

And wait in the world to see

where it will sprout. 

I will ask nothing of it

but only that it grow to be 

Itself. 

I leave the harvest, or scent of flower, or weed

unknown to myself, alone to God; Here,

Under the sun and from my own self freed,

I plant a seed. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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