Seedlings

  Profoundly the pain of not knowing manifests. So this is it here I am struggling to survive. Searing memories of what was cloud what is. Standing alone in this cold reality we call life.
Those around me seem ready to take it on.   Still here I am alone pining for what?
Is it the feeling of really living?
Or trusting me in my own way of life?
Where do I go from this never ending dead end? 
Do the answers come slowly or not at all?   Soon I know the fruits of my efforts will show. Sowing for harvest 3 seedlings of my womb. Showing the way of ease to watch them stumble. Steadily holding the rod for which I suffer. Love in time will show it was not in vain.