Although Fertile Were the Fields

Although Fertile Were The Fields I Plowed
Although fertile were the fields,
I plowed
That self-same earth lies barren now;
Barren ever-more.
Still, I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
For my seeds were sown
In the wild and unsullied season
Albeit the earth which absorbed the substance
Of my labors
Yields neither fruit nor flower.

Still, what remains behind us after we have passed unto nothing?
Is it the perception of Ourselves by others
Or the small and humble things
That are the substance of our struggle?

Although fertile were the fields
I plowed
That self-same earth lies barren now;
Barren ever-more.
Still, I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
For my seeds were sown in the wild and unsullied season
Albeit, the earth, which absorbed the substance of my labors
Yields neither fruit nor flower!





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