They saw the harvest inside me.
They saw what was not there to see.
Purpose which God embedded within;
Created with promise to be.
Hull and husk long fallen and gone;
The surface pitted and battered;
Discarded, deemed worthless and done.
So small the seed holding promise;
Which for lack of nurture and sun;
For rich soil never embracing;
Germination never begun.
Samaritans on the stark lane,
Upon which lay, discarded kernel,
Hopeless. Wretched. Consumed by pain.
God’s sorrow-filled heart apparent;
The song He put there unsung.
Yearning to see the seed planted;
The prelude well written begun.
Examined through lens of God’s love.
Found there what others were missing,
Hidden in quotidian shell.
Warm embrace of earth enclosing;
Showered with undeserved love;
Radiant grace of acceptance;
Infusing the core from above.
New growth breaking free from within.
The process now set into motion;
God’s symphony of joy begins.
Secure roots of hope descending;
Supporting as shoot starts to raise;
Bursts forth from cocooning seedbed;
Lifting dicotyl arms in praise.
This is written as a poor attempt to express boundless gratitude to my friends and family, the love and acceptance of which, have taken me from the broken, hopeless, joyless, and rather feckless man of recent past, to someone who is beginning to embrace life and full of joy and the knowledge that God has a purpose for him.
A dear friend of mine, Allena Volksay Yates, blessed me by putting this to a tune, which may be heard here.