The seed was deep inside the ground,
Entombed by plates of roads.
Over the road a Man would walk,
Or guide his cars and loads.
The pale and ghastly, man-made stone,
Has closed off air and light.
But seeds still struggle underneath,
All buried out of sight.
But then, one day, with might of life,
One seed has broken free.
The stones have parted all around,
The shoot of growing tree.
The seed is tiny, and alive,
It's power comes from earth.
No stones will stand in way of life,
And mysteries of birth.