Screaming of seeds

it burns within the earth
within the heart of the molten iron
that churns upon itself
it affects each and every molecule
pulling them in and letting them go
to bind and create with every destruction
each building wave
each crumbling mountain
each burning forest
each opening cocoon
it is the progression of these forgotten gods
who are no different that the children
who mourn their classmates after a shooting
we put a face to it
to claim it as our own
to try to harness and understand it
that which keeps our clocks ticking
and our minds hungry for more
in the consumption of our debts
pours forth the need to return the favor
and in there it lies too
in the planting of trees
and holding of hands
in the teaching and listening and laughing
and knowing that the tears
will nourish what's yet to come
there it plays in the warmth of May
where dreams bloom and fruit
and people remember they're all from the same place
and there it slumbers in the winter ice
where it stings on numb skin and stale thoughts
and can be heard by those who listen
as the screaming of seeds