Hope rains seeds

which grow
under the sun,
suspended, a dish
miraculous:

radiates as
fingers, gently touches
to birth
every morning with drops
of mirrors,
hanging
aplomb, composed
ready if only
for a second
to explode:

underneathe all that hate,
rage, disenchantment
of the world
which flows with pleasure
for the few,
hope wires into
channels, spells out new
words,
spins the very architecture of life
into growth,
becoming,
the oneness of
soul and body.