PILGRIMAGE

When a seed
is just a seed
it does not need light
to grow.

The seed is not ready for light.
It would not know what use to make of it.
In fact, the light might even be a distraction.

The seed in its infancy needs water—
oxygen—
heat—
just like the blind and eyeless worm
to whom the notion of light seems
nothing but a fantasy born out of a misplaced fear of the dark.

But when the seed is ready,
it finds not only a use for light
but an essential yearning for it.

For reasons it knows not
(the seed knows nothing of auxins and phototropism),
it feels called
to a great and ancient odyssey.

Set down your roots o little seed, 
climb out of yourself and skyward,
towards the light you cannot see,
towards the light you cannot see.