Poem: Harvester
 

Often I have heard that the fields were ready,

Often I travelled by and saw the wind blowing steady.

Miles on end the fields had grown and I started to wonder

Why the harvesters were not any stronger.

"Can they not see?" I asked, "that they should hurry?"

"Surely they know the evil reaper is approaching in a flurry?"

 

On the eastern horizon I notice clouds gathering,

Do I see in them sharp swords shining?

I look away to focus my eyes,

To the west my spirit sees through a disguise

Of dark clouds forming in the skies.

My eyes dart from east to west, and God's Spirit reveals evil lies.

 

My spirit broods over the innocent fields below,

Agony pierces my side as I see a stronger wind blow;

My mind still wishing the harvesters will not be so slow.

Suddenly, the fire in my spirit starts to billow!

No longer driven by the flesh or its destiny,

It hastens me to gather from the fields quickly.

 

As I enter, the clouds in the west start raging wildly;

They were told Hades desired the fields entirely.

Labouring in the fields I wonder,

At the rumble I hear up yonder.

Not daring to look up or waste time,

I pray for helpers & refreshing wine.

 

Some passers-by slow down,

Others stop, being reminded of a waiting crown.

In the east I see the shining armour being shown;

Waiting for a signal from the Throne.

Light and Dark are approaching each other,

In the middle, is the wheat I still have to gather.

 

When Light meets Dark, a storm will surely follow.

Those not gathered will be blown into a hollow,

From which not I or the angels of heaven can burrow;

A place of pain and sorrow.

How much longer, oh God, will You delay the coming storm?

Give me warning of Your rising scorn.

 

Labouring in the fields, I again wonder,

At the louder rumble I hear up yonder.