Seed vials at the Svalbard Global Seed Vault

I try to bear witness of me

Though myself is hard to see.

It is something else inside

From which I no longer hide.

What am I a witness of?

Is it some manifest love?

I try in vain to see the truly you,

Watching surroundings is all I do.

To know of you is an utmost blessing,

But as a witness I am only guessing.

So what is there to preach about?

Something unknowable no doubt.

Sometimes, infinitely near, 

Words continue to appear

That might have been sown,

Somehow, by this dear unknown.

Do seeds grow in earth like me,

The witness of which I will be?