Shattered

The seed must fracture in the dark Before the stem can find its spark. The winter frost must clear the lawn Before the spring can pull the dawn. We count the hours, hold our breath, And call the quiet ending "death," Yet every breath we deeply take Is borrowed for the spirit's sake. A river flowing to the sea Does not dissolve; it is set free. The wave returns to where it started, Never truly lost or parted. For life is not the light alone, But how the briefest candle shone. And death is but the folding wing, The silence right before we sing.