When one has taken root, one puts out branches.
However vague they are, dreams have a way of concealing themselves and leave us no peace until they are translated into reality, like seeds germinating underground, sure to sprout in their search for the sunlight.
A seed knows how to wait... A seed is alive while it waits.
Trees sprout up just about everywhere in computer science.
In 2016, I was pretty green. I was budding. Some flowers were shooting off.
Desires are seeds waiting for their season to sprout. From a single seed of desire, whole forests grow.
Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but I haven't quite got over the miracle that you plant things, and they do sprout up.
I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing, In my veins, in my bones I feel it,- The small water seeping upward, The tight grains parting at last. When sprouts break out, Slippery as fish, I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath-wet.
Life on earth means: the sprouting of wings.
