Weeds

Weeds
By Mark Spencer

The crops are nearly ready now,
They are no longer seeds.
The reaper will be coming soon,
To separate the weeds.

For weeds do nothing for the crop,
They only block the sun,
As they spread across the garden,
Until its overrun.

And some crops will be corrupted,
Each harvest has a cost,
The crops defiled by the weeds,
Are almost always lost.

The only purpose weeds have served,
Outside of the brier,
Is mulch to fertilize the earth,
Or tinder...for fire.

So, on the day the reaper comes,
That day, each soul will learn,
If they're the good crops He has saved,
Or tinder to be burned.

This is the garden of our Lord,
And each of us, its seeds.
The reaper will be coming soon,
To separate the weeds.