Fruit - Poem by David Taylor
When we ask the same question
is it the same answer again?
No it's yesterdays answer that's always the same,
withered and dieing
on the branch from which growing it came.
Today's answer is new
but from that very same branch
it most certainly grew.
The branch is the question,
rooted in truth;
not hoarding old withered leaves
this is surely
the wisdom we need.
In finding each time the leaf that is new,
in season we find the blossom that blooms.
Its heavenly fragrance the sign of the fruit
that slowly but surely ripens in time;
that fruit which when eaten
we become one with the truth,
from which that question was sprung
and all of the answers give praise
to the sweetness of fruit
that branch has produced.
The essence of heaven and earth
pervading its juice.
Inside that fruit lies the seed
which with wisdom is planted, indeed
many years hence
a new branch will grow
and soon all will taste fruit
and all will be known.
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