Gardening Thoughts (original poem)

Little sprouts rising from the ground,

not so profound, profound,

Not so profound until you take a broader look

Around (3x)

The land is full of dead things,

full of nothing decent to eat…

No new items on the menu, just the same thirsty cracking clay

lying lips full of empty promises meant to sweep us away.

All the while casting blame and screaming at the Sun to go away!

At the Son to go away…

tongue in cheek, tongue in cheek, no this is their reality…

Meanwhile, the same old thing resenting every rainy day

sent down to washes its miry bones away

resisting, revealing the new thing underneath.

Mean while, the little plants just dance in silence.

Spinning their growing leaves for the audience above to see.

Flowers blossoming above the dry bones

to witness life in the wilderness,

soak in the majesty of Everything

and sing its praises day and night.

Can’t stop their movement, lifting skyward in spite.

peddles dancing in the rays spinning stories.

Over time they turn to giant vines until their old skins can’t hold them.

They’ll be released, you’ll see,

or their surroundings will be forced to shed them piece by piece.

Letting go is key to transforming into an undefinable dream.

Branches of light stretching upward as far as the eye can see

Conduits of living water, bringing life to this Valley of Death.

In me, in me, in me, beauty for these ashes please…

been tied too confusion for to long,

Confounded, ungrounded, need to be renewed…

pressure chamber engaged don’t jump the gun

In the cocoon, chrysalising dangerously,

do not disturb quiet please.

Shatter these roots and burn them

from the smoke, from nothing

send them soaring from the flames, do great things again

send us flying, defying gravity magnetized to everything living.

Eagles with mighty winds under their wings.

Tireless titans here for a gathering, here for THE Glory.

Here to listen, witness, and utilize the gifts we’ve been left with.

Do something… anything, breath consciously…

Urgency got me scribbling into reality a storm for all to see

Want to see what happens when we listen to the inkling to sit quietly.

Once again a proof for the pudding;

Moral of the story: The right seeds will overcome anything.