James West Poet Free verse

Parable of the Sower

I ask what’s the purpose
For a writing with no reason
A hundred thousand words together
Has definition but no meaning 
The expenditure of ink is the 
Mouth running off for no reason
But what I write is what I reap
So I write and sow in Season

Because it is the sowing season 
The ground is ready for planting seed
Some may grow tall and strong
Some will be swallowed up by weeds
Some will be picked off
Some will die in scorching heat
Wether or not fruit is produced 
the difference between triumph and defeat

The rockier the soil
The less the roots and foundations 
Will grow to be deep
The seed that falls to the wayside
Becomes the violence in the streets
The seed that gets picked off
Is the one that is led astray
The seed that dies in scorching heat
Is the one that did not withstand the day
The seed that became swallowed up is the one that lost its way

The seed that grew to flourish
And produced its fruit within its season
Is the seed that overcame
And was planted well with sight and reason.

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