Little plant pokes through the seed

".. o(〃＾▽＾〃)o.."

The little seedling was feeling indescribably comfortable! It was truly an odd, and new feeling to be buried within the warm, soft soil.

"It almost feels like.. snuggling in a blanket!" It thought.

"..? Blanket? Snuggling? I seem to know these.. words?"

The little seedling felt weird and confused. '.. ?'

What are words? Is this called.. thinking? After some time it simply came to the conclusion; "it feels good, so whatever"

Little seedling simply floated around the comfortable darkness. He thought that this place feels like moms womb.. "wait, what are wombs?"

After a couple barrel rolls and moments of lollygagging, it suddenly felt that unknown feeling of warmth and safety again!

"... !!~~~"

Then, something suddenly struck his tiny mind, "I need a name!"

"Wait, what are names? Hmm, it seems to be how i'll be called.. how do I know these things? I must be a genius!"

"... my name.. hmm"

The little seed felt confused, for the umpteenth time it tried the action known as 'thinking', when all of a sudden, the dark space surrounding him was blinded by a deafening, cracking sound- and the entire world went white.

...

..

... "brother, look, there are seeds inside these fruits!"

..?.. what are these.. 'they' call them, memories? Who is this toddler?

..

.

"You're right! This seed.. hmm, it truly is quite a fine specimen.. why does it look like a rice seed, though? The fruit it came from is-

**

...

..

A large mast, a great wood sitting atop the azure throne of worlds, the little seedling saw a blurry image, of a delicious (?) Looking landscape from high above. It saw itself as a-

-hanging far above the azure world, on a branch that seemed to extend into eternity - a lacquered coffin hung above the azure horizon from the mountain like branch of the great wood.

It stood there, lonely, and-...

**

A warm embrace enveloped the seedling.

"it feels like 'mum'." It thought, though yet aware of what the words truly meant.

Beneath the ground, the mountain sized roots of the great tree coiled around a large coffin, from which it felt a great sense of warmth, and also..

..

Sorrow?

..

.

"Little... yang.."

A distant, ephemeral voice seemed to sing a lullaby to the little seedling, and it felt comforted..

The shaky little world of consciousness dimmed, and soon, all was dark and silent, as the little seedling fell 'asleep'.