What Soil Is Found

Around me, all around, I see the seed,
potential in them, scattered, hopes to grow,
falling on hard packed ground, just birds to feed,
where, then, the harvest planned for, when we sow?

On thin and shallow soil, some seeds may sprout,
their fate, sere scorching, wilted by the sun.
No quenching moisture, frail roots do without;
soon after they spring forth, their life is done.

Among dense thorns, though produce is desired,
deprived of light and choked of fare, they pine.
Entangled, little growth has then transpired;
no one finds fruit or grain on which to dine.

But, cultivated, deep and fertile soil,
encourages the seed to sprout and grow.
Now, multiplied, a profit for the toil,
with joy, the bounty reaped for what we sow.

Like seeds, hope of success depends on where,
the message finds its ground, or snatched away,
and distorted, ill-aimed, received in error,
or unencouraged, weakness, then falls prey.

Entangled with the world's confusing ploys,
an open heart and mind are compromised.
Keep our soil deep, receptive to the joys,
Heavenly peace and love, the gifts most prized.