Harvest
By Tramp Poet
Harvest Solitary kinda person alone in a crowded space a monk hidden in plain sight. Walking the halls of life part but naught included tis a supernatural life. Striving, working to lose active war with selfish self invisibility seems the goal. Dedication to a life of sharing Masters word seeking perfect, humble soul. Select few, far between glimpsing beyond cowl catching personal smile. Dust of earth clinging painting simplest of shoe traveling together, for awhile. Mind flashing, saber-like, cutting deeply through layers of mask teaching to deepest inner one. Revival breaks out instantly where Masters word was sown harvest has finally begun. Written January 20th, 2002 © on Jan 20 2002 06:23 AM PST 10 • 0
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"Harvest..."