I am sowing the seeds for tomorrow,
There is no guarantee of harvest,
of survival through the cold winter.
But then there is no guarantee of a winter,
for I may not live to witness it.
I may not live to witness
the beauty of the harvest.
- mrdes, 18 Sep 05
Life is short, too short perhaps. We plough the field, scatter the seeds, watch the sky and pray for rain and shine. We swear by our harvest but somehow fail to see the beauty of it - the field of golden corn or angelic-white grain; the fruit of our labour as reminder of our hard work. But I may not live to see it.
Some words from the old school of thoughts: it is ever easier in this modern world to see survival and results in the shortest time possible as the purpose of all things done. One fails to see the pride of overcoming obstacles through superior human spirit or sheer hard work. Perhaps life is really too short and too hard. Or has life turned too complicated for us to achieve anything in our lifetimes, that the only way to success is through short-cuts.