Oh kind one,
What are you doing?
Where are you going?
What is it that you’re longing for?
Have you not considered your true feelings?
Do you not sense the pain in these probing?
Over and over he planted the seedlings,
Kept planting, watering and delicately nurturing,
Despite the unpredictability and the roughness in the air,
The weather unusual and unstable in behavior,
Sometimes it gets unusually cold,
Sometimes it gets intensely hot,
In worse times we are tested with severe haze,
That is both smoky and suffocating indeed.
Oh you, delicate one,
What are you doing?
Where are you going?
Will you not consider your true feelings?
Even in the torturous heat, he continues fostering,
Taking care of the plants feeling,
Even when they seem to be ignoring,
Even when they seem unmindful to his tending,
Thinking of a peaceful evening
Where the plants are cool and give off clean air,
Where the water flows in it’s naturally stream,
Imagining spring,
Where we settle and bask with contentment and ease,
So everyday he gambles, fighting against his lowly stature,
Though clueless of what tomorrow might bring,
The lowly farmer, enlivening the harsh grounds,
Even when luck is not on his side,
He keeps trying whilst withstanding the pain,
So that none can ask him,
“Why didn’t you keep trying?”
The rest depends on the Praised one,
The One who gives life and death to everyone
