NOTHING SIMULATES
Though of the same
tree
all fruits don't
share a single tale-
just like leaves.
Leaves falling in
leaf-tremors
would find rebirth
on same branch
through a maternal
root.
In wind-blown
leaves
is the first
murmur of wanderings.
Some leaves would
be parasol
for worm life
under it.
Very few would
stand
with the plant to
end unto earth.
Those burned of
sun,
decayed of rain,
thrown down by
naughty kids,
or blown by rascal
winds-
would be mother's
pain.
Tender fruits
reach dining
just as they are
to put on weight.
It would spice up
dinners.
Some reach
vegetable stacks
in street corners
available for
bargain.
Those that ripen
full
reach mammals'
bowels
as if ordained.
Some seeds would
find
genes of seers
in entrails of
migrating birds.
They would give
exile's
life-in-memories
to those extinct
at homeland.
Worthy seeds would
turn
indifferent stone
statues
to debates of
reclaiming
citing back-deeds.
It is like that:
Female infant
buried
in polythene sack
would give
testimony for
maternal love
turning deadly.
Seek testimony of
life-
from female
sediments
in streets of
sperm;
the depraved from
street
with mind
shipwrecked;
or abused kids:
Offsprings of the
same mother:
none is like
another.
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