A Sower Weeps

©2011, Olan L. Smith

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For too long I weep for humanity

Through lifetimes too numerous to tally

It has been my obligation to observe

In times of famine, war and premature deaths

And enhance the health of my designed creation.

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Another cheers victories of unity,

Another lifts expectations of optimism

For a troubled harvest,

And— even another consoles the heart

Of survivors, for it is their sole task

To assist, the precious jewel of this realm― Earth.

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Wings of angel are mid all things,

Living and inanimate―

They lift and comfort those forlorn

And only That which creates a Garden

Will weep over its untimely demise.

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In between is a creation thrashing about,

Struggling with its own self and for their purpose

And they wish to understand why and how things exist

Yet, they refuse to open their inner eye of understanding

And they create gods to worship, to bow down before―

They insist knowledge is discernible,

Finitely and they can grasp the infinite

With their mortal hands.

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It is not a matter of where we originated

It is a matter of who we are

Or why we subsist—

It is an issue of what we have achieved

And what will be accomplish

To make this world a better place

And improving the prospects for our children

And their children's, children.

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Hope is alive, though our potential is unsure

And with deliberate strides we can be—

Camp Hope Earth.