Voice of the Fields
“I was here before the spirit moved across the waters, before the inundation of the sun, before man emerged from the ashes, and before everything came to be.
From solid rock I was made arable so I could breath and let the grace of God come through my narrow doorways. I heard the trampling of the dinosaurs on my head. I felt the moving of the root system of the plants reaching down to my feet and the stems finding their way through the loam and upward toward the sun. I saw the fruits coming to be and availing themselves to all in a charitable manner.
I see the laborers working the plows atop my surface so they can harvest the crops in the Autumn. I hear them reciting psalms and singing hymns to the glory of God and to the joy of labor.
But if that labor is a curse to them, and they begrudge the crushing of the grapes, then that grudge distils a poison in the wine and the taste becomes bitter; hence, humanity suffers from that resentment. Build thyself up through the love of labor, mankind, and that bad taste will be made sweeter from your integrity. Be forever joyful and grateful in thy attitude and everything will be also in return.
And I am still here through sickness and sorrow, seasons upon seasons, and through drought and deluge. Nothing can stifle my voice, and I will be here until the end of time.”
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