We’ve been told, we’ll reap what we sow;
pertaining to growing and then, harvest;
and, good sense, should allow that we know;
the dawn must pierce through the darkest.
Darkness is a staple in all growing seasons;
no life is born out of perfection;
we can’t spend our lives, calculating reasons;
for, Life’s Creator, shuns rejection;
For, we were born as the seed of his love;
destined to become his child of trust;
planted in holy soil, in his garden above;
came the man, fashioned from dust.
We’re the life, formed out of his synergy;
children, at the feet of his throne;
forged on the anvil of eternal energy;
destined to never be all alone.
Some say, they wouldn’t change a thing;
they’d live their life, exactly the same;
it’s only ignorance, to the table they bring;
the fool they were; they still remain.
This life we think we are now living,
isn’t really a life at all;
we must learn about loving and giving;
or we’re destined for a fall.
We are seeds of life, breaking thru earth;
basking in the Master’s love;
though earth, we claim, as our place of birth;
in death, we return to our home above.