Written 4/27/2017
Where would you go my lovely sweet brother,
For there is no path but the way of tradition,
We are a family of bread-smiths,
Learn the art of the dough,
The mixes and flavors that titillate the taste buds,
The soft and hard crunch,
For bread creates the largest foundation,
It may seem like a simple life filled with lazy strife,
But fret not as I see the future plain as wheat,
We have one purpose on our track,
The endless loops of strict discipline,
If not for purpose,
You will drown in chaotic, lossless misery,
That is why you wake up with the hens,
Sleep with the crickets,
As we revolve around our creator,
We are but one segment of the root, Keeping the tree alive and well.
House of Harshy 