I scatter seeds as I walk,
Passing through time, a field, a fabric,
Marking a series of singular points.
Where seed touches soil, where root and sprout fuse:
A patchwork of memories - pinned in place.

Like an acorn buried and forgotten,
The memories of the past span deep;
The possibility of futures just breaking the surface,
an endless variation of them in a single, delicate tendril,
a single loop of thread connecting back to the fabric, the root, the past.
The experience of longing and belonging,
and becoming, and being - a pattern.
Over and over, weaving
the memories that give life depth,
and cultivating seeds of possibility -
saplings in a wild expanse,
threads in a delicate lace.