My Fifty-Third Harvest

 

In light of the world is thee.

Pretending to see who God made me to be.

When could I believe who I think.

I am participating in this life these are my acts.

Here are my seeds presented for reading in word.

Each letter a row for what fruits do grow.

For this being my fifty third year planting upon land, 

According to my almanac, this shall be my best harvest yet.

Extracted from God's mine the dominant precious metal 

Alchemical Art Baby Blue.

In lights my world, I rise and see,

The image of God reflecting in me,

A thought once whispered, now yelling right,

A presence born from creating light.

Each act, a mark, a moment sown,

A script scribing, a future known.

Here are my seeds, aligned in two rows,

Watering wisdom, where fortune grows.

Fifty-three cycles, the soil tilling love,

Turning the past to the promise from above.

This harvest, the richest, the purest yet,

A golden yield where the Son is set.

From God’s own mine, a brilliance you,

Alchemical shine—Art Baby Blue.

To light the world, stands thee,

Pretending to be who God made me to see.

Wow could I believe what I think?

A participant in life, every act a link.

Hear are my seeds, presented for singing,

Each letter a row where fruits are proceeding.

In my fifty-third year, planting my land,

According to thy almanac, this harvest is grand.

Extracted from God's mind, a precious metal,

Alchemical you, Art Baby Blue, 

a creation dominant.

Shining tilling willing brilliance, every word I sow,

Transforming abundance, watch it grow.