These Parts of Me

Now Gone to Seed

These parts of me which, gone to seed,

on spirit's wings, star-like, now float

throughout the world—how light

and immaterial they seem,

traversing aimlessly despite

the vast desire contained in them.

One day a few of them might stem,

should they find nutriment for might,

some just-so-sunny place where rain

might wet the throat to offer voice

to words which thought they had no choice

but to dissolve remembered pain.

But here they yet reside, in different form—

anew, transformed from simple orb

into new limbs which arm their souls' alarm

into embrace, indifferent to storm.

Such body this, in all its vast attire—

becoming is which once was but desire.