The Garden

The land may offer to bear fruit,
but the garden cannot flourish
without knowledge, without truth, without love.

The garden took many forms at many times, but was always the same,
in moments it flourished, new life appeared,
I tended to the flowers as best I could.

But the flowers always wilted and died,
I was left with nothing but the dead leaves and decaying vines,
like memories, photographs or old status updates that remind me of you from another time.

When a gift of beauty arrived,
I did not know what to do.
You eventually became sterile too.

I became exhausted with it all,
and left the barren garden for pastures new.
And though I left, I still looked for you.

In exile,
your land’s harshness cut into my hands and feet.
And tears flowed like a stream into the rocks.

In time, Part by Part to make up a Whole,
I shared in the Word with my witness,
Pronoun by proper noun the Word flourished into True Love’ Speech.

Now the garden, in infancy,
the Words become the body.
And with love the seeds of REAL relationship are sown.


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