MANNA

Mortgaged spirits comb life's chaff for the pearls of poignancy,
living on elixir from ardor's ladle of angst, its taste a flavor so bittersweet,
in robotic daze, they gleam sweat's succor from the furrows of time's fields,
languishing in the precarious earth between bounty and famine
when a divine tickle stirs the heart, revealing the cornucopia of faith's grapes
sprouting along the trail in toil, forced to walk for reaping survival's grains of sufficiency.

Weary eyes bedecked with only practical vision just look to find a day's provision
only viewing the worn path as drudgery's way, leading to recycled seasons of husbandry.

Souls tasting the Lord's wheat, discover fertile soil plowed by sacred plan,
gazing anew in wonder and peace at the miracle growing both within and without,
how each crop was sown as heaven's seed with love and grace,
planted by the finger of God as the manna meant to feed salvation's hunger.