A lamp belongs upon the stand.

Light was never made to hide.

What is secret comes to daylight.

What is covered opens wide.

Take heed what you hear.

Take heed what you hear.

A man throws seed into the ground,

then night comes down.

Morning rises.

He sleeps.

He wakes.

He sleeps.

He wakes.

Underneath him,

life is moving

where his hands cannot command it.

First the blade.

Then the ear.

Then the full corn in the ear.

He does not know

how earth makes green

from what looked buried and still.

He does not pull

the stalk from soil.

He cannot hurry hidden life.

But when the fruit is ready,

the sickle knows the time.

First the blade.

Then the ear.

Then the full corn in the ear.

The kingdom grows

before the eye can name the change.

Small enough to overlook,

a mustard seed goes down.

Small does not mean empty.

Hidden does not mean gone.

Branches lift.

Shade begins.

Birds settle underneath.

Take heed what you hear.

The lamp will show.

The seed will rise.

The harvest knows its hour.

First the blade.

Then the ear.

Then the full corn in the ear.

The kingdom grows.

Light on the stand.

Seed in the ground.

Nothing hidden forever.