PRIMITIVE SEED

Primitive seed
Art thou pure in nature
I behold thy gates
Bestowed upon I fate
With a blossom of scented
Bliss
Brushing against walls new
Who is thy architect?
Where from did thy spring
Originate

Pure seed
You grow in deserts
Where the Nile flows not
Thy name sounds in oceans
Indian
Pearls precious not by
Comparison
Pure seed
Art thou mustard in trait

Thy roots dig deep
Deeper than the sand of seas
Like Egypt you rise
Forged in pyramids of scrolls

We applaud the stranger
Yet the native in disguise
Speaketh but word

Pure seed
I primitive impulse
You keep alive
Reborn through
The altar that shades blood