A Poem: The Many and the Few

there was a man who planted seeds out there in his field

he was hoping and a'praying a good crop to yield

along came a flock of birds, they ate and had their fill

no problem for the farmer, he'd take the rest to mill

in the darkness of the night while he lay quiet and sleeping

another tiptoed in his field and planted weeds a'heaping

the weeds grew without a bit of help - so easy and so fast

the good plants took special care if they were going to last

the farmer tended to them, the worthless growth he weeded

his work meant hope - food for the winter that his family needed

we might be growing in the field along with all the rest

are we the weeds or wheat, are we the worst or best

if we don't stop and ask ourselves we'll be in quite a fix

time will come for harvest when good and evil won't mix

the wheat be gathered carefully and stored in a safe place

the weeds be tossed and burned carelessly with haste

most can see and most can hear so they understand

the things of life and living not given to animal but man

the words of Christ are available and free for all the taking

the target of each human life made His life worth the staking

but what's this about seeing and not really understanding

but what's this about hearing and not really listening

perceptions and attitudes of these last days on earth

are cause to pray for others, this is no time for mirth

be it the many or few the line of separation is drawn

the world its way a trap for many cursed devil's pawn

we have read and we have heard:

enter in at the strait gate

for broad is the way to destruction and we don't want that fate

and few there be that find the narrow road leading to life

...these are just words...but still...they could pierce the soul like a knife...