The soul is a garden that needs tending:
deadheads to be snipped away, trees to trim,
stray weeds to remove, fence that needs mending,
measuring, minding each tendril and limb.
Yet what will thrive, and what withers and dies,
regardless of hours of ministration,
catches even the masters by surprise,
in spite of their great determination
to manage and nurture and plan and plot
each sapling, each bulb, each seed, each new bloom,
watching the sky and earth with a keen eye.
For nature seeks beyond what it is taught -
it finds its own space wherever there is room.
The longing soul likewise finds truth thereby.
19 APR 2003
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