Spikes

in writing •  2 months ago

We are spikes that one day seek to become wheat, the shadow of a tree that was once a seed. Our life, like everyone's, is based on three acts: to be born, to grow, to die.

Birth or childhood is nothing more than the moment when you feel you are alive. There is no fear, selfishness or betrayal, crying does not burn your soul and instead, is just a subtle way to get rid of an unknown feeling.

Growth, adolescence, puberty, maturity, unexpected changes, bound thoughts, words and deeds. Action, reaction, sex, passion, sweat, tension, fear and uncertainty. Needs in any sense appear in the lives of those who pass through this passage.

Dying, a stage that begins early for some, late for others. The angel with black wings will take your hands, it will be left to you to accept his cold kiss with fear or with a full awareness of his arrival.

The spike that once was seed now becomes wheat, and with it the hands of the worker made his blade to pluck it out of this world, sowing a new seed and beginning a new cycle.


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