Day 841, In Fertile Soil

 

When seeds of hate are sown in fertile soil,

It’s no surprise that thorns and weeds may grow.

There’s no reward, no matter how we toil;

Sow seeds of hate and we reap what we sow.

 

When fires of hatred finally explode

And magma flows to burn all in its path,

Those living near will find no safe abode,

For death and chaos are its aftermath.

 

The fires of hate that burn deep in the Earth,

Roil to the surface only now and then.

But seeds of hate will always test our worth.

We root them out and they grow back again.

 

What is the fertile soil for seeds of hate?

We find that it was readied long before.

The soil in which hate would first germinate,

Was slavery and indifference to the poor.

 

Where tribalism’s openly avowed,

Then “anti-other” germinates and thrives.

The hoots and howls and jeers from such a crowd,

Insure that not a seed of love survives.

 

Sow seeds of hate and we reap what we sow.

There’s no reward no matter how we toil.

It’s no surprise that thorns and weeds may grow,

When seeds of hate are sown in fertile soil.