Cast your seed upon the barren ground,

And let it grow for trying.

If it isn't busy living,

It's busy dying. 


We all want to grow big and tall,

And fast as we can.

And multiply our kind.

To deny it would be lying.


Nature in its wisdom,

Fills every niche and cranny,

With creatures large and small.

Glowing like a nanny.


That all things are in order,

Pristine in their place.

With tragedies great and small

To keep things in their place.


For growth, unfettered and unbridaled,

Is not a pretty thing,

It lays waste to the land,

And kills the necessary unseen.


So when you boast of your great growth,

Be careful what you wish.

Your castle may be invaded

As you are doled what you dish.


Growth has its place,

If spiritual and divining.

Growth for growth's sake

Is a recipe for dying.

Copyright 2000 © Ronald W. Hull



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