Oh, The Soul’s Eternal Seed, At Hand! Poem by George Kane

Love’s innate seed, in worldly speed,
at the wind of jets, on beaches sets,
all, pursuits oh boy, a man made joy.

Seeded love cause, unmoved of applause,
aching to be sown, in the world be thrown,
on the world grown, from the divine spawn,
to crop love's cosmic goal, innate to all.


Full aware where to set root, what owed to be its fruit,
not bought nor sold, of love alive, off any vault's mold,
vulnerable to be beaten, due to ignorance really eaten.

Oh, man, if not truly you, get on to boot thy real divine,
where upon intend with to set root and call that, me mine?
only when the everlasting, heart sensed, as cosmic love joy,
can truly be forecasting you, being life master, not live toy.

From the line of D. Ellymeu