The Sower and His Seed

Photo by Ramon Souza via Freeimages.com (2008), CC0 Public Domain

Do our souls not travel through seasons? Can these travels alter the course of the rich path leading to our heart? And do these paths, as a result, sometimes become shallow from trampling stones or choked by overgrown thorns? Do we not, at times, require warmth or till, demand rest, and lack fill? Of course, and our Sower is there to scatter the seeds we need to feed troubled souls and mend worn paths to our hearts . . .

Like the seasons

a soul can linger;

requiring much work

from mighty fingers;

needing warmth;

requiring till;

demanding rest;

lacking fill.

In the spring time,

You tried to feed me

but dismissing heart

devoured seedling.

The warmth of summer,

brought sprouts of joy

but lack of root

soul's comfort destroyed.

The thorns of autumn,

the prick of fear

choke this spirit;

are You even here?

Sorrow collects rocks

seed will never sprout

Your attempts to feed

futile in heart's drought.

Like the seasons

a soul can linger;

requiring much work;

from mighty fingers

needing warmth;

requiring till;

demanding rest;

lacking fill.

I need a Sower

for barren ground;

transform tangled spirit;

fulfill a heart now bound.

Life's weather lingers

on weary souls

till and nourish what is closed

quench the thirsty once more.