Harvest season the golden fields blanketed with the golden wheat
Swaying gently, dancing with wind, ripe, mature, ready to eat
Farmer's sickle or harvester, with its blade will kiss the wheat
The plant is touched with kiss of death, but kiss of life the wheat will greet
A life beyond the life of plant awaits the newly harvested wheat
The chafe separated from the grain, to the rhythm of a new beat
In this brutal separation, we mainly follow the grain of wheat
Subjected to many more hardships, but now rests in late summer heat.
When a mother goes to labour it is time to harvest the child
Through the certain death of foetus, a baby on life smiled,
Separation of umbilical cord, a new rhythm of life beating wild
Though many challenges await the baby, in her mother's arms resting mild.
Every life comes to fruition, every project to its harvest
And that, the end of old life, this death perhaps the hardest test
Through this death and this harvest, we find new life must be blest
If subjected to separation, with some pain in life invest
A new start to many more trials, but for progress this the best.

 © Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
June 26, 1997