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Writer's pictureEdwin Janney

THE SOWER



When the sower went to sow

His seeds he sought to grow

The seeds were of perfection

But, his choice was where he tossed them


Our seeds from birth to us is granted

Be in natural talents or special abilities

Are to us granted with perfection

With all it takes to excel.


I know it’s true there are life thorns

And rocks awaiting your arrival

With deep and raging waters

Like jumping from a plane

Even though well strapped with right gear

But adversary waiting your landing


Yes broken homes

Alcoholic fathers

Whoring mothers

Racist governments

Lying politicians

Blow up the list, you may


Yet once you somehow

Survive this initial adversity

His might Grace and love your wind

And assume control of the seeds

Your choice, your seeds, to still disperse

Paying heed to where they land

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