Medicine of the Harvest

too long i've let myself sow and toil
too long, tethered under the sun to my plough
today i smell the scent of springtime
the glow emerges of the harvest
today, i become the sun
no longer working 'neith his gaze
instead in union with creation
today is harvest day
set myself free from my ole story
that sweat on my brough must bear to pay
the cost of the right of existence
my own rut in the ground i must lay
what i've found though through list'ning intently
to the depths of medicine the inside would say
more profit it seems from surrender
than sweat, grind, and conquest ever could lay
so on to the bounty of my harvest
in peace and tranquility i'll stay
from now till the end of my peering
upon the ground where the merry folks play
rested in abundance of the harvest
regardless of the calendar day