I’ve gone to the harvest, and what I’ve found is the rest of the crop,lying on the ground.
The farmers have come,never really slept.
Us workers gave thanks,then we wept.
The raped land now sits in shambles,growth gives way to death of amber greens.
The main part given away. Taken to tables for children to nourish, and adults to sleep as prideful nurturers.
Another supply of food for the family, plenty to go around.
Just enough, no more no less.
Those seeds are dormant now. Yet the shell inside of me grows eternal.
The sunshine I receive seems to hide at times.
The rain comes hard, the wind changes again and again.
My roots remain planted, my dreams stay true.
Now, can you hear?
Now, can you see?
Now, can you receive?
This gift for free, this Harvest from me.