We were shaped on the sixth day,
set down in grit and daylight,
hands still smelling of ground.
It’s said we sit just under the bright ones,
not quite lifted, not quite settled,
a middle place we carry without complaint.
Most days we feel small enough-
like something meant for soil,
held together by simple parts.
Yet there\'s a hint of more in us,
a quiet charge that doesn\'t draw an eye,
waiting for its season.
Seeds know this kind of waiting.
They keep to themselves,
take the fall without protest,
trust the dark to do its work.
If the stories are right,
we\'re no different-
a people in early form,
kept low for now,
growing toward a shape
we can\'t yet hold.
.