The Heavy Plow

  The Heavy Plow The Plow upon His shoulder, He walks across the land, The earth spreads open, Behind the steps, Of this man. The Planter of the seed, Pulls the heavy Plow, The ground is rent, Soil bared, His work draws a crowd. Like a beast beneath the yoke, He stumbles in His task, The Plow digs deep, As the crowd around Him laughs. The plow row behind Him, Opens to receive the seed, While men and women rejoice, To see Him on his knees. The Plow again now rises, Here, double yoked, A Cyrenian pressed in service, In this cruel, heartless joke. The heavy Plow upon them, They furrow up the hill, The crowd of endless ages, Laugh at it still. Blood and sweat drip, Watering the row, The seeds begin to spring, In the garden far below. The heavy Plow is planted, Firmly in the dirt, The work is nearly finished, Of sowing this rebirth. The Planter on the Plow, Looks out upon His work, Though His heart is pierced, He declares it - good. Earth, now turned over, Beneath the heavy Plow, Stands wa

Time for a Shot

I will begin my shots on Thursday of this week to prepare for the transplant the following week.

However, there is one catch that will fill many of you with jealousy, envy and all that stuff. The catch, Nicole will be administering my shots Friday thru Sunday.

We thought of auctioning off the opportunity to give me the shots for charity. You know, highest bidder would get to come and stick me. But Nicole just couldn't part with such pleasure even for one day.

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