Turned away by the potent journey
Pushed by the enigma of tomorrow
My soul reaps pasture of pure grain
Not all affluent with great health
Nor wealth.
The seed planted and nurtured
The arduous motions
Fail to bring promise to happiness,
On the taste of fruit will
With ambiguous patience to heart
Will this fruit have luster?
Mundane life, though, does not
Vibrate the string of pears
Nor the hyperbole agitation,
To be carried like an egg
To be protected like a fetus
Will this, a seed produce fruit.
The salacity of fruit
Only bruise the core
Water with patient love,
Not with selfish care.
The promise is reached when
Life has begun in the hearth
Knowledge of ones own
Will culminate the soul
And one mind will center
The soul foul choices-
-Dictated by the hearth.
The allowance of this
Only created eternal life
For fruits that is borne
At hand.
Fruit
