2019

It opened with new fields
With dreams of bountiful harvests.
Our minds were filled with different types of seeds,
We're so happy to witness.

Some hands were to heavy
To carry a hoe to plough,
Some hearts were too happy
And they did do it with joy.

Our plants started germinating
Which rose my hope so high.
Suddenly, theirs were ascending.
If the finality of hope was a stone, I would be fine.

My plants got infected and was attacked by pests,
Like water being poured inside a basket, what a waste!
Despite the drugs used, my dream of bountiful harvest was laid to rest,
Like a premature baby's death.

When it was about to end, I saw them walking out of the fields
With different types of fruits,
Different types of natural resources that would turn into money & foods.

Just to look at my basket
Filled with nothing, not even a fruit.
My eyes were filled with water, there was nothing I could do.
But with the determination to succeed when another time comes.

#Vision2020.