Reaping the Rows
I've sowed the rows since my youth,
now I look back to the sunrise.
The crops were gathered plentiful,
but would I chose to redo it?
The soil was tilled by elder ones,
love was a main component.
I see this now at this late time
though I was blind in past moments.
Into this loam I cast my lot,
above my head the clouds gathered.
I cast the seeds with fear embraced
by self-doubt of worthiness.
The crop grew strewn with the weeds
though the yield did prospered.
Years passed as bounties came
yet there were signs of danger.
Brambles grow when ignored,
in time the thorns consumed
sacred parts most embrace
as the sanity did wither.
The fields I share are diverse
shared with other farmers.
They wish the best for my soul
though I am too trapped to see it.
Now enwrapped in twisted vines
among the treasures of living
I wonder if I would plant again
if my mind would be better.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160426.