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YOUR WEIGHT
The task before you is impossible, and yet you are getting it done. Your toil under the sun has its place. —Pardon… there is little space to move on this never-ending line— If you calculate the time you have left it may seem there is no way. Tasked to count the days with fear. And trust that —oh pardon me— your Maker sees the larger scope. Your hope is that that tree, higher than you can see, can be taken down, one clipping at a time, into the ground where your home is found. —Excuse me, I just need to get around... No, please, you go first— While you carry your weight, passing sister and brother, a friend or the other, keeping your step, a cadence is kept that rhythms in a miracle you’ll never view. Hold your leaf, bigger than your self. —Oh, thank you for letting me through— In time you’ll harvest more than you can chew.