The crop

A Poem by Bridgid Persephone Newman-Henson

Another poem inspired by Neva Flores

I plant the seeds and watch them grow, but it's harvest time that I am for
The seed of love that I send out, takes on its own primeval clout
This place that we call Earth, our cauldron
Forge us into gold and all one
Children from a higher place, we choose to rise, or fall from grace
I cry out in the wilderness, those that hear have passed the test

The ones who love against all odds,born as light filled baby gods!