The just and the unjust often share the same spoil.
They labor and squander and till the same soil.
Yet the seeds they plant are worlds apart.
Some from the ego and some from the heart.
They wander and ponder, thinking this way and that.
They wonder and blunder as they step up to bat.
They swing and they miss, they fight and they kiss.
Some love, some hate, some search for bliss.
Either careful or clumsy with cargo rare, a fork in life’s road will bring fruit to bear.
Each wait for a harvest in season to come, either joyful or hurt when the gathering’s done.
They blink and they think and they choose what to see.
One pained and chained, while the other feels free.
The years flash past awash in a flurry, of doing, and going, in haste and hurry.
Free says to chained “man why are you here?”
Chained only knows he was never truly there.
One sparkles and smiles, youthful and glowing.
One stoops and slumps from the burden of knowing.
Choose wisely, discerning that which you plant.
The reasons and seasons will someday be scant.
Take heed to the pain you may try to withstand, thinking you have the upper hand.
Seek refuge and be mindful of tending your garden, before it blooms, and flowers harden.
To know indeed can set us free, to what extent is ours to see.
Blessing or cursing is ours to find when we see with our hearts, or choose to be blind.