My Heart is parched and my Soul runs low of strength,
rumblings from within in hunger for Love.

I must ration myself as I journey alone,
keeping reserves of what I have to offer.

I carry seeds of love and devotion close to me,
  so they are not grown in haste.

I  store in carefulness of what is tucked away,
so not as to lose for what may be ahead.  



Does that me beggarly? A poor soul to pity? Soured by bitter drink?
No, for I am wiser in knowing of my travels,

To wait for the feast, of The Harvest of Love, when it is time.

Copyright ©  Jose Gonzalez 2015