Compliments of an Enabler

Your need is for that space,

which yearns to be filled,

naught but barren land

waiting fiercely to be tilled.

I step into the harness,

bringing ample strength to task.

I dig the furrows deep;

my command is yours to ask.

Through the stones of your pain

I drive my sharpened blade,

but when I search behind me

I see no mark was ever made.

Tightening my straps

with clenched teeth I dig harder

none will see the welts

resulting from this ardor.

Long and hard I toil,

so sure this land is fertile,

never recognizing

that my efforts will be futile.

Seeing this, my failure,

I’m sure that is all mine,

I step up to your table

and drink your bitter wine.

Tired and hurt, I wonder

how such labor comes to naught,

this cold and lifeless field

at so great a price I’ve bought.

Still, I wait and hope

that this space will bear some fruit

‘midst your stones I break asunder,

always knowing it was moot.