The wheat and the tares may grow together in the same field, appearing indistinguishable at first glance. They share the same soil, the same rain, and the same sunlight, blending into a collective landscape of growth. Yet, as the seasons pass and the time of harvest draws near, the true nature of each plant begins to emerge. The wheat, upright and golden, ripens with the promise of nourishment, symbolizing the fruit of integrity and purpose. Its grain offers sustenance and life, embodying a harvest of blessing.
In contrast, the tares remain dark, tangled, and fruitless, revealing their deception as they choke out the life around them and consume resources meant for the fruitful crop. They stand as imposters, blending in only to corrupt and hinder the good that seeks to flourish.
When the harvest arrives, it uncovers more than just the nature of the plants—it serves as a profound illustration of the power of discernment and the wisdom of patience. This moment of truth, long awaited, reminds us that appearances can be deceiving and that time reveals all. The harvest is not just a gathering; it is a reckoning, separating what is valuable from what is not, and bringing to light the true character of what has grown in the field of life.
In fields where sunlight softly streams,
The wheat and tares weave shared dreams.
Together they sprout, side by side,
In soil where blessings and deceptions hide.
They drink the rain, they feel the sun,
Their growth appears as if they’re one.
A landscape vibrant, green, and vast,
Yet shadows linger, secrets cast.
The wheat stands tall, its purpose clear,
With golden promise drawing near.
Its grains hold life, a sacred yield,
A blessing born upon the field.
But tares, deceitful, dark, and bare,
Choke the life entrusted there.
Their tangled roots, a cunning snare,
Consuming what the wheat would share.
As seasons turn and harvest looms,
The field reveals its hidden rooms.
For time lays bare the truth concealed,
And hearts of plants are then revealed.
The wheat, its head bowed low with grace,
Offers hope, a warm embrace.
The tares, though bold in leafy guise,
Stand empty, barren, their disguise.
The harvest comes, a reckoning wrought,
What’s true is kept, what’s false is not.
A moment sacred, just and bright,
Separating wrong from right.
For life’s great field, a mirror to all,
Shows every rise, each looming fall.
In time, discernment lights the way,
Revealing truth in judgment’s day.
So let the wheat in goodness grow,
Through storms, through trials, high or low.
And when the harvest bids its call,
Let truth and purpose stand for all.
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