"And someday the harvest", a poem

To live is to work, and the only thing that lasts is the work.
Throw yourself like seed into your work, and into your own field.
Don't turn your face, for that would be to turn it toward death.
Look to your field and do not let the past weigh down your motion.

Learn what is alive in the furrow, what is dead in yourself.
Life does not move in the same way as a group of clouds.
It is a purposeful cycle, a repetition of motion with meaning.
The work itself will teach you how to work.

From your work you will be able,
one day, to gather yourself.
There is a harvest that grows over years and yet,
Every day is springtime, and every night a harvest.

Maria Isabel
March 15, 2012