There was a man. He was a modest man. He wasn't too tall, he wasn't too short. Although he wasn't bad looking, genetics were working against him. He had thinning hair and was kind of talky. His eyes were somewhat withered and expressed sadness. His morning cup of tea was disappointment.

On the walls of his house there were faint sun worn paintings. There was a painting of a beautiful girl whose eyes seemed to stair into the depths of your soul. She reflected such beauty and radiance yet could barely be seen due to the years of the sun's harsh beams raining down. The modest man would get up every morning and look at the painting he so proudly hung. With a tear in his eye, he would kiss the painting and go on about his day.

He was a farmer, and the weather had not been good to him. As he would toil and sweat the birds and ravens would pick at his crops. When he thought that he had planted a great harvest, the storms would roll in and flood what he had planted. Each and every day he would try to plant a new harvest. At the end of the day after many hours of work he would come home, hang up his hat, and walk over to the painting of the radiant woman and give her a sweet gentle kiss. He would mutter the words "I love you" as the night quickly rolled in and carried him to sleep.

Each and every day the farmer would get up and carry on his ritual. He would get up and kiss the old withered painting. He would toil and sweat as the birds of the air and storms quickly reclaimed his crops. At night, he would kiss the old withered painting and mutter "I love you" as the night quickly rolled in and carried him to sleep.

The farmer got up like any usual day and kissed the sun worn painting of the beautiful radiant woman. This time he was determined to make his crop grow. He toiled and sweated harvesting his field. The birds of the air and the storms that threatened would not deter him. He toiled into the night determined to make his crops grow. After many hours the farmer grew week. He trembled in the night, shaking, cold, tired, and breathless. After many hours of the fight he collapsed in the middle of his field. As his heart beat fainted, and his breath slowed... he was carried away towards a bright light.
The farmer strained as the light continued to get brighter and brighter. After pushing through the light the farmer saw that beautiful, radiant picture of the woman that he had kissed every morning and night of his life. Yet this time she was REAL! No frame, no glass separating his love. As he drew closer to her, he saw her hand extend toward his. He reached out and touched her, and his lips gently kissed hers. The night had ended and the day had begun. He realized that the seeds he had planted were not merely for growing crops, but were the seeds of love. He was finally in the arms of his dream and his harvest was fulfilled.