The Harvest of New York

Do not doubt your own sincerity.
Do not doubt -
the one voice
that is - you.

By the end, my infantry-soldier-turned-prison-guard father will bequeath me a treasure chest, an actual treasure chest, but that will happen in real life.
Near the beginning, my twin brother, incarcerated in Alabama again, shared the story of the love of his life, who died young and suddenly. Her name is Sarah, but that happened in real life, too.
>Work is not suffering
Work is the pain
That keeps away suffering
That keeps us the same

Woven herein . . .
the fiction of you and traces of this and inklings of that, traps set and weapons provided, further traps set, provisions naught.Many years ago I began weaving, because many years ago, I met you.
Many years have I been at it, through-and-through, 4our, 3hree, One, 2wo!Welcome to The Harvest!Treasure lurks!
Careful as you go.