Pulling against the bit only makes my jaw sore,
But there is so much soil to be plowed,
So much ground to be covered,
So many things I have to do.

Yet I am not at the reins.
I cannot see the way.
My blinders block my view.
I must trust the firm yet gentle hands of the Farmer
Who guides me and knows what field I am to plow today.

For the yoke is easy and the burden is light
Only when I do not struggle against the reins.
Or try to take them away.


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