Untitled.
You withered the fruitless tree
“Discordia!” The vinedresser sings
An untimely harvest, sweet patience my plea
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My soil-bed unkempt, You can see
Roots buried deep in loose soil I cling
You the withered the fruitless tree
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With death in this moment from sin I am free
Yet this drying, pulling, uprooting does sting
An untimely harvest, sweet patience my plea
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Command me now and I’ll fall to my knee
Chrysanthemums, poetic lexicon, what can I bring?
You withered the fruitless tree
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I hear there is still a crown by the lee
Worn by a lamb, shepherd, servant and King
An untimely harvest, sweet patience my plea
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Shadows lengthen, diffused light covers me
Respirations deepen in this my awakening
You withered the fruitless tree
An untimely harvest, sweet patience my plea
