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.