By the Sowers' Hand

And along the sandy road we cross paths,
forever after the memory obscures the truth.

In pain we grieve the loss of our illusions,
future hopes and dreams scattered by the sower's hand.

The sweet solace that is only brought by passing days,
is the balm by which these wounds would surely heal.

If only reminders didn't hang from every hall,
with only a ghost to show us what we once had shared.

No specter of love in the house we built,
just a vision of what would have never been.

Our paths crossed on the sandy road,
giving hope a chance to follow our steps.

We walked together in our lonesome season,
learning of our own desires and secret dreams.

Though time passes I still wake unto your eyes,
but with a head shake you fade and I am all that's real.

In the spring time with cleansing rain we grow apart,
unto ourselves a flower in the field of the sowers' planting.

The July heat brings drought and dry eyes that crack,
all the while wishing to be found in the sweet September's sun.

Once our paths did cross in the dust of the lonely road,
we said good bye and like a drop in the ocean went our separate ways.

No opposing the willingness to pass by the places we used to hide,
swallowing the bitter after taste of the medicine which cleanses the soul.

I float like the butterfly through the ether stream air,
without a rudder trusting that the sower' has already divined my course.

With faith I follow my tiring feet,
the path leads so far but I don't question.

With pain and joy our tired season has come to pass,
the sowers' careful tending has paid the price for our fruitful harvest.

Yes, once our paths did cross...