~×~×~×~
In my mist jeweled garden
I am happy and blessed
if you'll beg my pardon,
I must finish before I rest
There seems to be more work
than hours in the day
my duties I mustn't shirk,
I will seek and find a way
To assemble for a while
these never ending tasks
Then I'll pause and smile
when someone politely asks
"What is that you're tending to,
it looks rather complicated-
Is there something I can do
to help before we're belated?"
So we toiled for a season,
then He slipped away
Just waiting for a reason
to leave without delay
He left behind a calling card
into a lady's slipper, it was placed
as I read, I found it hard
as the words seemed to erase
All these feelings I had inside
while we were together
I went behind the gate to hide
behind a waterfall of Heather
"While we were sweating", said the note,
"I couldn't help but detect-
we were toiling", he painfully wrote,
"So my thoughts began to collect"
"You put so very much energy,
trying to get things done
But alas, it did not seem
these tasks are much fun"
"So I had to leave you behind
to a different occupation
If you read between the lines
I'm sure you will see the relation
"Between what the word seem to say
and what they actually mean
for if I go, or if I stay
toward wisdom, we will lean"
If my garden riddle you find
ambiguously written
consider that it was designed
by one who has been smitten
With the complex contradiction
of loving, yet needing to be loved
You see there exists an addiction
that looks below rather than above
When I leave it behind
it catches up to me;
so I'll wrap it up, and bind
It to The giving tree
For I have given all I can
and then a little bit more
But Father has a better plan,
I have but to slip through that door
And once I make it through,
(shedding painful tears),
I'll see tomorrow imbued
with mankind's hopes and fears
We all have gardens to tend
consider mine, then yours
Then after release, as you ascend
toward your own secret doors
You'll be rocked with the notion
that we were really the same
The inexorable forward motion
we must fit into our game
As I considered the words,
I found that I felt the same
Some may think it absurd,
it isn't always fun and games
So I'll do some pruning here,
then plant a bit more there
To make my meaning clear
while the weather is fair
For there is a storm a-brewing
on the edge of reality
So in all that you are doing,
consider, that to truly see
You must look without your eyes,
and hear without your ears
If you want to be wise,
don't look to your peers
Some of them are pulling weeds
which is what others are planting
So, tend to your specific needs
or you could be ranting
And raving about a future
that's totally out of synch
Much like a stitch, or suture
pulled so tightly, it links
(~To~)
Darkness! a grim plight
So keep your grip on real
because the unreal might
distract you with its appeal
Look rather to the source
of everything which I have spoken
And plan a secure course
accepting my tale as a token
Of My profound interest
in seeing you succeed
Go now and do your very best
as you tend to your weeds
Then you can finish reading
all that I have penned
Where is all this leading?
To the beginning of the end
~×~×~×~
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Author Notes
A special thanks to dellsworthpoet for the help with this!
By "The Giving Tree", I am referring to a literary work by Shel Silverstein.
Gardening has broken down the wall of block. I suppose if I analyze this then it would be a metaphor and have some deep meaning behind the words and concepts I chose.
I wrote this about 3 weeks ago.
(That was then, this is-)
(Now) I realize that it's a bit longer than is comfortable reading, and it needs to be shortened a bit but last my smartphone is not very smart when it comes to editing!
Blessings,
Brother Badger Cull
July 15th, 5:55 a.m.
With extra notes added today, July 22nd 2021, a year later.
Thanks for reading and may God bless you.
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