i am daniel.
to be blessed with broken soil
the miracle of the ground and all the dirt
if money doens’t grow on trees
then I guess planting seeds wouldn’t hurt
if you find yourself so clothed
with the threads of your shirt
then surely these seeds
couldn’t hurt
and even if the ground
seems far too dry
I can’t seem to understand why
we retreat inside, to hide,
cause surely the crops won’t come
this time
the ground on which we walk
could never grow tall stalks
why waste the seeds on these dying crops
the ground could never grow tall stalks
“Nothing will every grow here”, he said
after such a drought, you’ll soon find out
the time is gone, this land is dead
he continued to protest and shout
“These seeds are mine,” I was quick to reply
and this dirt I know will produce once again
“Rain clouds are coming from over the sky
as surely as you feel the wind”
patience fertilized everything I knew
to be still and sit and wait and watch
if anyone can raise this ground it’s You
something I surely could not,
and when what was planted moved and grew
proving more valuable then any other cost
after all this ground has been put through
changed everything I thought
I’ll finish this later…
