I did not conceive for my own glory
An unconditional harvest
Provides soil for love
Unmarked seeds
In full spectrum
Scattered in the wind
As you await the discovery
How will they bloom?
With only nourishment
And a clear path
Pruned of expectation
Mulched with pride
To blossom with their own hue
The farmers hand never raised
Except in awe
Of life
And raw emotion
And not of self
Except to see in their pose
Reaching for me
Their light
Until the day
When they will leave
To adorn another’s gaze
But regardless of their place
They will live
In full approval
Of what they have become
For in themselves
They will know no burden
Of my needs
Other than to love me
As I loved them
And as they weather every storm
And every temptation
And every rejection
They will remain in place
For the farmers field
Has been spread before them
To walk
With his strength
Because they came from him
Not to count his glory
But to count his blessings