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Field of Rocks
With forged futility
To reap what cannot be sewn
I've been mulling this over for quite some time now. let me know what you think.
What does this poem make you think of?
How does it make you feel?
Do you have a favorite line?
Aided only by the luck of random design,
Sifting through the sands of fate,
A pilgrimage of time,
To reap what cannot been sewn,
We wade through the river of eternity,
Planting what cannot be grown,
With forged futility,
We wait to harvest the crops,
From this field of rocks.