The master strolling
along,
Picked up a grain of wheat,
From the bag kept ready
for sowing.
He looked at it,
rubbed it clean, kissed it and pressed it to his heart.
The grain of wheat
was thrilled, was overjoyed.
Close to the
master’s heart it remained,
Like a precious
pearl, a gem, a jewel now still more precious.
The grain of wheat
began to dream dreams, lofty dreams.
It saw itself set in
a precious pendent,
Lovely, beautiful
shining bright Oh so very beautiful,
And in ecstatic exuberance
it exclaimed
“I was born for You,
I am Yours, What is your plan for me.”
Delighted in its
glory it looked up at the sky –
A little twinkling
star grew big and bright –
It looked down at
the little grain of wheat and said
“ Many a gem is born
to bloom and blush
and waste its sweetness in the night air”
The star twinkled a
mischievous smile
Left its mark and disappeared.
The little grain of
wheat kept repeating
Many a
flower is born to bloom and blush
and waste its sweetness
in the night air”
Till one fine day it
stopped looking at the sky
You
stupid, that’s not meant for you,
You
are not a flower you are a grain of
wheat”
The little grain of
wheat went back to its musing.
The master took the
little grain of wheat looked at it and kissed it,
Then he went out
into the garden,
Dug a little hole
and dropped the little grain of wheat.
The little grain
cried out Oh Master what have you done to me?
It hurts Oh Oh Oh my master My body is paining.
My master I love you
and I know you love me too ,
I am yours , I was
born for you Do with me as you wish.
The grain of wheat
looked around. All the same it could not help feeling the pain.
And oh! It was
smelly, dirty and dark. Oh master it cried out.
My master where are
you? And the little grain of wheat wept.
It wept and wept and
wept till it fell asleep
It woke up to a
splitting pain on its side,
And looked at itself
and saw a lovely shoot sprouting up,
As beautiful as the wings of an angel, Oh so
very delicate and beautiful.
And down below fine
lovely roots My! how very lovely, dainty
how delicate.
Oh what beauty, I
never knew these were in me Yes I had to die to know,
To know that unless
a grain of wheat falls to the ground,
It remains but a
grain of wheat, but if it dies it will yield a rich harvest.
Content now; the
dried up skin of the grain of wheat dreamed once more,
A field of Wheat
stocks dancing in the wind, is winnowed and crushed.
Into flour and baked
to make Hosts -- Hosts ---
the Body of Christ
And it said to
itself Now I know why I was born----
Yes I was born to
become the Body of Christ
Sr.
Mary Paul ocd
Hassan Carmel.
