My mind is a garden
With petal, plant and bush
With soil that is rich and clear sparkling brook.
This garden that I Am.
Spirit nourishes the roots of my Being.
Tis the Light of my Soul
That allows me to grow.
I Am the gentle fragrance of the rose
Yet I too am the sting of the nettle
That guards the edge of the path,
Meandering through this Enchanted Land.
Stooping now to pick a weed.
Or so to think it seems
For soon it returns, as if to say,
That it has its place to.
There are murky ponds
And crystal pools.
Valleys and meadows
And mountains high.
At times the path climbs upon the edge
Of jagged crevice or becomes the trestle
Crossing a vast chasms of fear.
At times it is felt as a Radiant Glow,
Supporting and caressing my feet below.
Looking back, soon I see
That all is but memories,
Each side of the Now
Is bright and full
Of blossoms sweet, a land that is blessed.
With balance, joy and happiness.
Ahead lies a mysterious quest,
Yet one that ensures success,
If I but stay on the path.
For my choice, it is
To tarry here or forge ahead.
To look back viewing the memories
Of long ago.
Or try to perceive a future lent
Of unknown event.
Or may I just enjoy this moment
Of Light and Love Serene,
That is this Path of Life.
Copyright Stephen August 2003