Half way?

Wow, at a school re-union... Didn't realize how much we change, & yet... & yet.. Maybe it's the picture of a seed...
Ah... yes, but it must not clutch at it's identity as though it were always to be a  seed... or as though it was now full-blown as a seed.  It  must let itself be buried secretly, wasted in the ground, before its potential can become evident - in good time (& never to be shown off again to all his old seed-buddies, for they have either rotted in the ground, or are now almost unrecognizable as the seeds they once were.
Much to become!

Are we learning "Who we are?"
- or "Who we are becoming?"
Come the distance? Are we far?
Our "need for speed" 's numbing.

Thinking of a number-line,
we're often led to count,
or extrapolate - that's fine,
"What will I amount

to? "in the end" - it comes to this...
but maybe those two arrows*
"Tell their tale"... ("What if he missed?"
or "What falling sparrows?")

What's the world here coming to?
The end? Is it in sight?
Egg to zygote, foetus, .. clue
us also to some light

on this matter now at hand
or held within our mind-
fullness, we must understand
ain't something that we find.

I've a notion we are found
more full or empty by
others who are on the ground...
who hear us when we sigh.

Which direction do I move?
Am I a cup - or hose?
And who is it that will prove
to whom, that water flows?

* thinking of the two arrows at the ends of a number line e.g. 
             -1       0      1     2
     <-----;----|----;----;--->, 
as the most important indicators: the numbers we are up to, or the speed we're at, are almost irrelevant (as long as we don't stop). Our direction of movement will affect all. But then also, the tales of arrows that illustrate those two directions... The archetypal boy shooting at a sparrow or pigeon (for target practice, & surprisingly hitting it, then dealing with intentional death, & William Tell & his two arrows... etc)