The Growth of Faith

The Growth of Faith

The Farmer casts his seed and breezes

guide it to an earthly bed.

Mother's heart beat,

the warmth of the womb, its pleasure.

Morning dew wets the husk and waters

the ambitious thing, its future, perilous.

Struggling to birth a furtive form,

it roots amongst the rock, held tight against the storm.

Its branch, a grasping hand, bent skyward in search of home's real home,

and rest from the otherwise ludicrous nonsense.

Its tanned coat greened with life's spring song.

Its eager play belies the day of reckoning.

Summer's aging gifts bestowed;

a fruitful wisdom growing there.

A kind of sense emerges then

from living life's adverse condition.

The harvest blade, ground scalpel's edge,

plays havoc in the Farmer's field.

Westerly fires, unfit flowers add peculiar color to the otherwise fruitful harvest.

Their petals withered, their perfumes noxious and choking the senses.

Eagerly, soft branches await the Farmer's gentle prune.

Life breathes fresh again.

The Farmer casts his seed and gentle breezes

guide them to an earthly bed.