Lunar Seed

On time’s shore, an abandoned wall holds back the salt.
In a fissure, the moon seed breathes softly.
Crack by crack, the stone remains in listening.
The sea watches, discreet witness to a birth.
The moon feeds it with silver reflections, a slow sap.
Thin roots seek the rock, weaving memory and wind.
Every night the sprout advances, quiet and tenacious.
The crevice becomes a path, a vibrating thread of light.
Germinated, the seed becomes a bridge between yesterday and tomorrow.
The stone opens up, a staircase leading to dawn.
Abandonment and time grant themselves a breath.
On the shore, the moon seed blooms a small eternity.