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A note from the author: I composed this about four months ago. Some of my English Club friends have seen it already. It's a symbolic writing and is still unedited. For the serious learners and people that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet; Please just read "deeply" and know that English has many levels of comprehension.

My Life To Live

As an average farmer with an occupation that consisted of brutal labor and small yields, my way of life wasn't easy. Summers were short and hot. Winters were long and lean. Through the very best and worst of times, I managed to provide for my family.

One early Spring morning, I hitched two horses to the plow and began to till the soil for the new growing season. In the middle of my labor, a beautiful flower crossed my threshold. As the cold steel passed her stem, I could hear her say, "It's my life to live. The field is large and I'm small. Can't you spare some precious soil for me?" Those words made it to my ears, yet, grain pays more than weeds. My plow continued onward.

Midway through the summer growing season while inspecting my half matured crop, I stumbled across that same flower. Perhaps my steel had managed to miss all of her roots during the Spring. For the second time, my hard working hands removed her from the fertile dirt. Before tossing her to the field's edge, I smelled her lovely scent and was truly touched by her beauty. While finally discarding her for the second time, I heard her say again, "It's my life to live. The field is large and I'm small. Can't you spare some precious soil for me?". I wish I'd listened to the simple message that that flower tried to deliver.

For the remainder of summer, she never returned.

By early Fall, the grain was tall and bountiful. A record year was about to be recorded in this farmer's financial books.

On the evening before harvest, a hail storm swept the land and rendered the grain useless. My family and I nearly starved during the following brutal winter.

When the snow finally melted, it was time to begin another long endeavor of yearly existence.

In that same field, and nearly the same spot as the previous year, my flower once again appeared. As my horses and plow approached her, she once again cried, " It's my life to live. The field is large and I'm small. Can't you spare some precious soil for me?". After the previous year's work had been destroyed, my heart finally changed. Instead of running her over and ridding my dirt of an unnecessary plant, I decided to direct my horses and cold steel to my left to avoid her roots.

Summer came and passed. My flower rose tall and triumphantly above a majestic, and very good yield of grain. One weed's symbolic message simply changed my life.

The autumn hail that had previously stricken my family never returned.

Live and let live.

This was one was given out to all of my creative English Club friends. I hope you all enjoy it. Never be afraid to follow your dreams and try new ideas. I love so many of your blog writings. Here's my favorite song regarding the subject of new creativity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vRFR8_PXhl8 Never quit writing my friends.

Take care all!!!