I am the fertile ground and I am waiting.
I wait for the seed which will one day burrow within me, and flourish, I pray.
There are other patches of fertile ground nearby.
They have borne fruit over and over, while I remain. I am waiting and watching.
The rains come, they flow through me. But I still do not bear fruit.
I did once, many moons ago. The beauty of that flower was unsurpassed.
I cannot ever bear another flower exactly like it.
There were other seeds which burrowed within me, but they did not flourish.
Instead, they perished. Those seeds were precious to me.
Now they are gone.
Seeds are all around me, blowing in the wind, but none is the special seed.
There is only one which can make me bear flower again. I believe that this day will come soon.
There is no more that I can do, except to wait and remain still.
I am the Earth, I cannot move. I am prey to the whims of the seasons and Time.
Although I know that I must wait, I dream of the time the seed will come.
Then once more I will nurture the most precious gift: Life.
Until that time, I remain, the Earth.