Fruits of Labor
Soul that shadows, that echoes at each turn…
Silence sings lullabies to a heart unfairly chained.
Wisdom once fertile is barren. Dust swirling in the breeze–
Asks only that the soil be turned, new seeds planted…
…Nurtured with heart, watered with laughter.
In the darkness of labor, one can hide themselves,
…While, truth rages in the space between thoughts.
And, eyes grow hollow with fury unacknowledged–
Imprisoned, it is forced to feed upon itself.
Taking with it well-lit intentions–greedily, it takes all.

Outside the fence, I watch this struggle…
This attempt for new answers, to old methods applied…
Each particle of earth slowly bled dry of hope.
Rolling green hills, taken, stolen, given away one blade at a time.
One small voice, in its ever-present cries, remains ignored.

One look up would birth the sun, and darkness be made clean.
A deep breath inhaled turns terra’s tide, overrun with potential.
Just as a quiet mind, would flood the ears with fruit of its peace.
New wisdom awaits these new tools, and a soul to use them.
Love Peace Happiness N One,

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