i am seed-worn soil -- i am days gone bythe words of life have been poured, dumped by the bushel into my fertile furrows and like good soil, i have been busily wanting sunshine and rainy days so that these word-seeds may flourish.
Water me! don't dump new seeds -- let the first crop grow, and bloom! and anchor its roots underneath so that it can draw deep from life.
weed me! take out, tear out: the deep rooted species that choke out the good. they hang onto me for dear life and i start to suffocate: they know their fate is death.
pick me! fruits, and flowers, and every good thing -- properly cared for -- is ready for harvest. and then we can start with new seed, fresh words, sown into the soil of my soul.
"the seed cast on good earth is the person who hears and takes in the News, and then produces a harvest beyond his wildest dreams." Matthew 13.23 message
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