Look to the future of your flesh spring
The roots are deep but you're something
The ship won't sail 'till you untie the moors
Not mere harvest but you will be more
You mustn't fret for the seasons to run
Strength will make nothing beyond you
Neither the burning of the fat old sun
Nor the freezing of the icy white pool
Can hinder your growth to ripe
If the mind matters over the heart
What is your impulse for the start?
You must balance all the thoughts
Or you will turn into distraught
Up there you will reach the top
All will reap your fruit to no stop
But some will illude with fraught
If you give in, you will begin to rot
And when your taste fades to the bone
The soil curdles towards your sewn
Just another corpse for the compost
But it is choice that mights the most
You mustn't fret for your wasted fate
For a new life will not slow the rate
You become one with the ground
And return to nature's new round
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Look to the future of your flesh spring
The roots are deep but you're something
The ship won't sail 'till you untie the moors
Not mere harvest but you will be more
You mustn't fret for the seasons to run
Strength will make nothing beyond you
Neither the burning of the fat old sun
Nor the freezing of the icy white pool
Can hinder your growth to ripe
If the mind matters over the heart
What is your impulse for the start?
You must balance all the thoughts
Or you will turn into distraught
Up there you will reach the top
All will reap your fruit to no stop
But some will illude with fraught
If you give in, you will begin to rot
And when your taste fades to the bone
The soil curdles towards your sewn
Just another corpse for the compost
But it is choice that mights the most
You mustn't fret for your wasted fate
For a new life will not slow the rate
You become one with the ground
And return to nature's new round
Request permission to use this poem