The Harvest

The high grass brings comfort to souls that dwell in shadows

It creates curtains of loneliness that are quickly welcomed

As the sun travels the lengthy sky

Spectrums burn through the gaps

Exposing wounds of neglect and self pity

Healing winds seem to go unnoticed

As you can’t see a breeze, only its effects

Yet the green blades of past regrets bend and stretch with each passing moment

Allowing thoughts to salute the tears of yesterday’s sins

For the pasture will continue to be cultivated until the land is overused

And when that day comes the hope will be in the harvest