The Unseen Toil

The pain we bear, so deep, so wide, Unseen by all, with none to guide. We sow in storms, with trembling hands, Unsure if bloom or ash still stands. Each step we take through shadowed night, We pray it leads to dawn's pure light. But will the harvest ever show, From seeds we weep in silent woe? Still onwards,hearts with hope confined, For fate is not by us designed. If fruits do come or winds erase. We walk, not for reward, but grace. yawer..