| Seeds: | Ovular pellets with bifurcated kernels |
| Roots: | Thin, fibrous whiskers preferring shallow streams; plentiful, though hardly deep |
| Stems: | Upright green bundles of cellulose pointing towards the Light |
| Leaves: | Asymmetrical effusions of green morphing into compound lances; faintly peppery in taste |
| Flowers: | Tiny snowflakes appearing each spring heads slightly water |
| Fruit: | Thin cylindrical pods containing myriads of seeds resembling string-beans |
Andrei: Can I exit from this dialog? Little here is poetic . . .Elijah: Why can't science can't be poetic?Ellesha: It is if you look deeply . . .Philyra: I suppose you would say war is poetic. But that doesn't mean it should exist.Ellesha: Well, everything is poetric in some way or another.Philyra: You really don't have a moral spine, do you?Ellesha: Don't you see? What is music without dissonance? What is light without darkness? All your smug moral certitudes have their counter-weights, which also have validity in some time & place.