NOTHING SIMULATES

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.