This piece poured out of me almost like a memory, as if the seed’s voice was speaking through me. I didn’t set out to write a story—I simply followed the images and feelings that rose up. As I did, I realized it mirrored my own life: the seasons of waiting, the joy of growth, the giving of myself to others, and the quiet return to rest before beginning again. Writing it reminded me that every stage has meaning—that even in fading, we are planting seeds for what comes next.
The Story of The Seed Remembers the Light
I was once a seed, resting deep in the cold ground. Patient and quiet, I waited for the day warmth would return.
One morning, it touched me, soft against my husk like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Then it faded, leaving me in the dark again. Sadness stirred, but I held onto hope. The next day, the warmth returned. And though it left again, I remembered. Sadness no longer stayed. Instead, I began to anticipate its return with joy.
On the fifth day of warmth, my shell cracked. A root stretched outward and sank into the soil. Instantly, I was connected, woven into the Earth’s energy, embraced by the love of every living thing sharing the ground with me.
That night, as the warmth slipped away, I dreamed. The dream was of light, bright and inviting, spilling into my vision with colors of blue, green, purple, brown, tan, white, and black. When I awoke, the warmth greeted me again, and I felt myself changing. My root sank deeper, my shell pressed upward, day after day, until one morning my dream became real.
I broke through the soil into the open. For the first time, I didn’t just feel the warmth; I saw the light. Brilliant. Loving. And I grew toward it.
Within a week, a stalk rose. I looked around and saw neighbors, flowers, grasses, and plants standing with me in the field. Soon, an arm stretched out from my side, my first leaf. Then another, and another, until more and more arrived each day. Something inside me whispered, Something is about to happen. And then it did. My head opened, petals unfurled, and at my center glowed a golden sun, just like the light I had seen in my dream.
Then the light dimmed, the air grew cold, and something new came: drip, drip, drip. Rain. Cool, sweet water sank into my roots. I drank it joyfully. The water of life. That night, I slept in peace. By morning, I was taller than ever, my petals open wide to both sun and rain. I was happy, so very happy.
Days turned into weeks. Sometimes the sky poured, sometimes it shone, and I welcomed both. Through summer, I opened fully. My petals, once bright, began to soften and fade, but something new stirred within me: seeds. My children. In dreams, I was told they would carry my life onward, even when I was gone.
The warmth began to fade. One petal fell, then another, until they all lay scattered on the earth. I grew drowsy, ready for a long sleep, but my seeds swelled full. Then, pop, pop, pop, they spilled out, falling to the soil all around me. My head grew heavy, bending low until it touched the ground. I saw my children spread like stars across the earth.
At last, my body withered. I let go, slipping into deep, quiet rest beneath a blanket of fallen leaves.
Time passed, dark and still.
And then, one day, warmth returned.
- Riven Waters
Riven Waters 