How deeply we planted
the seeds of our arrogance
How fiercely they rooted
in the soil of imagined privilege
Oh, how we stood
in the high seat of scorn
surveying those beneath us
believing them less favored
unworthy of even our gaze
Now the season turns
and the harvest
we have sown
will be bitter
“For whatsoever a man soweth,
that shall he also reap”
Hatred, discord, envy
Love, harmony, kindness
What seed now germinates
and pushes through the surface?
© Ron Simpson Jr.
October 4, 2026
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