boom that just happened

Everyday a farmer walked out to his fields,
Harvesting what the land produced,
Selling grain and fruits to the common wealth,
Though never rich he lived a peaceful, content life,
Giving food to the ones he loved,
And his children always smiled,
But whenever he was outside he looked to the ground,
Hiding from the sun,
Shielding his exhausted eyes,
One day the sun was out yet he looked up,
Sat down against a tree and looked to his valley below,
It was filled with trees of fruit and ripe crops even more,
Saying, "Where have I been? How long has my soil been this way?
Everything I'll ever need, I own because this land produces everyday."
"What man am I to not notice my plantation till this moment?
My field covered with every seed, giving enough to keep me filled."...
Overlooking the simplicities,
Things we never thought to need,
Never giving our gifts a second glance,
But we would never give them up.
When printed words are all you see,
Don't forget the author behind the desk,
The face that I have kept inside the thoughts of my mind,
Is one I didn't notice, I question if I was blind,
But now that I've looked up seeing what I've talked about,
I keep those words like the seeds from the plants I grow,
Because beauty is a gift that's more than appearance alone,
I discovered a heart that's beautiful, that speaks of eternal home,
And when I looked to the owner of this heart that I had found,
I saw a face as gorgeous as the heart she held proud

blablabla

It may be the middle of the night,

But if the sparrows wake up i'll answer their call,

I'll listen to what the say with intent ears,

Making notes in my head of everything they said,

I've learned the difference between the butterfly and caterpillar,

One only dreams, taking what's presented and easiest to attain,

While the other searches and finds what it's been looking for,

Settling for no less,

If I'm the flower then let your approving eyes see me as acceptable.

Empty promises have dug holes,

And left them empty filled with air,

But I'll replace the holes and built castles where they were,

This I will hold true.

success

If fan blades were ferris wheels,

And peddles were boats to travel the sea,

Then my imagination is content,

Because i've been inching my way closer to home,

Although my home hasn't been built.

Whoever thought progress would be made by sitting,

While others work for their reward,

I couldn't tell how far I've traveled,

Yet I could say it was worth the effort,

But when it's all said and done,

Once the fabric has returned to it's original place,

I'd repeated all the steps over again.

Yellow and white are guides,

No one said they were always meant to be followed,

lines and crosses are engraved in the grass,

Marking my now regular path,

Once seven have passed they're drawn again.

Two thirds never felt this way before,

Perfect in tension,

Something I can't say I had felt in the past,

But something I happily say I have