The Weeds of Life

The Weeds of Life
James Dinsmore

There are parasites throughout the land,
The weeds of life consume our plans;
Waiting for one to pass by them,
They find in us a growing home.

Dangling from the weeds are seeds,
We brush by them to meet our needs;
We scarcely know that we have touched,
Until they begin to ask too much.

We feed them with our beads of sweat,
Their appetites are never met;
But never would we let them wilt,
For within our souls are roots of guilt.

There is no malice in what they’ve done,
The will to live cannot be wrong;
In the general scheme of things,
Essentially we are selfish beings.

Perhaps all of the good that we have done,
Is a clever trap that we have sprung;
Oh, how empty and shallow my life would be,
Without the weeds that feed on me.


Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is His reward. Psalm 127:3