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Fruits of Labor
One day, many years ago,
I scattered some seeds on the ground below.
I watered the earth so that they could grow
But saw no fruit from the seeds I had sown.
I knew in my heart that I had to succeed
So I pleaded with the earth to grant my needs.
Instead, it betrayed me with a garden of weeds
That soon covered the ground with terrible speed.
In a battle with the weeds did I embroil
As they feasted on the nutrients of the soil
And stole the fruits of my great toil.
It seemed as though my plans had been foiled.
Then came a great and marvelous drought.
For several months, water I was without.
Thirsty for rain, not a single shoot could sprout
But I knew I would succeed beyond all doubt.
When the rain arrived, it came down like a flood
And swept across the land, leaving pools of mud.
I lifted my eyes to the Kingdom of God
And prayed; all I needed was a single bud.
The ground would not yield; it was stubborn as a mule.
It laughed in my face and called me a fool
For believing that two hands and some garden tools
Could bring forth crops from an earth so cruel.
Years passed by and I began to lose heart.
The dreams I once held dear had fallen apart.
If only the earth had been kind enough to impart
That I should have given up from the very start.
Then one day I rejoiced for the seeds had taken root.
Sprouting from the ground I saw the tiniest shoot.
Not a soul on this earth could refute the truth
That my years of labor had finally born fruit!