To the Creator:
The Cycle of the Fruits of Your Labor

Jeramie Bumpeter

Consciousness is formed into seed
It lies buried, dormant within the deep
Other thoughts multiply as thinking percolate
They expand the head like the seeds of the pomegranate
As the fruit matures and its extensions swell
Internal intention is damned by these limits
Just as Hades hold on death, which life prohibits
Stops the flood of the well
Still development has seasoned the generation,
You can see
 And the product becomes ripe to be plucked 
From its familiar tree
While it remains attached to the self-whole
The pomegranate completes itself finding its soul
Purpose is to fall and burst open
And let sweet interior color flow
About like a blow-pen
To begin its path sometimes it needs to be torn
By the forceful winds of nature, away
From the creator from which it was born
On its own it may spoil and mold
As its insides remain unexposed, skin morphs to fold
Instead they rot as potential is wasted
Or another creature should come along to steal
For a voracious need to taste it 
The pomegranate would be taken
Far from its home to be
The sustenance an organism hires as its employee
As the living thing craves the juices if taken too early
An aftertaste would linger in its mind, bitterly
Incomplete thought expelled in spitting and sputtering 
Hard shell cracked and fluttering 
Should it be consumed when too old, may poison will
As past prime satisfaction of hunger cannot fill
The insatiate beast of good taste 
Waits for the proper time
To celebrate the feast in joyous pantomime 
As the seeds are exposed they fall scattered about the earth
Marriage to the matriarch, it is buried to give birth
Bled red life, meanwhile runs down the side of wiry smile
The plethora of seeds are enjoyed and selected by style
Forging through millions to find just one 
Strong enough to continue the line already done
To reach the connection to its rudimentary wood
That did bear, to part with 
And start a new unfolding stasis through the sift
And defy the exterior forces against
The strength of the originator
Is combined with its interior defenses
To become as dignified and brilliant as the original
Yet not all necessities are provisional
The constant conflict influences evolution
As the environment alters in charged revolution
Germination is persistent in the progressive cycle
Until feeble sprouts enrich in wood to withstand the sickle
Roots penetrate the graves to hold back the winds
Leaves are the intellect, which gathers light
To rejuvenate its energy into something bright
But what to create?  Would be the question that binds 
Then storm revives the memory of lost thought
How spread life; love without leaving its spot
The tree shall bear fruit as the adventure began
Flourishing colors of a thick and endless plot ran 
In two budding flowers blossom and transform
Into buxom pomegranates the virginal form
The upright tree nurtures its own to prepare
The fruit for the struggle it once had to bear 
And for itself, the passing on of care is just part 
Of an endeavor which has become the art
This beautiful creation shall be hard to let go
But for the rest of life to go on it must show 
The rest of the world what beauty a tree has made
The separation's initial hardship is harder when actually played
During the connection ties are made, which cannot be lost
And fruits are never far off when finally tossed
About the roots which run just as deep
The ability it was given it shall keep 
To try and live up to these standards set
Fought forever until they are finally met
The opposing forces expose the seed
So that the forces may synthesize and breed
And on to creatures who feast as Persephone 
Life is shared with those whoever they may be
And the cycle has returned to its beginning
As if the seasons could ever end in this thinking.