A Garden Of Words


As I walk through the cool soil with the soft young grasses tickling my feet, their cold damp leaves caressing soles and soul, my thought’s meander into the construct of the gift, a beautiful area dedicate and delicate to growth in this life. So does a garden grow as two people speak in God’s graces, with and in all the gift’s He so generously give’s.

What is God if not a great and glorious Lord breathing into existence all this little man, this boy child of only the most limited sight, no blind, deaf even to the thunderous Word that He spoke and speaks continually in all flowered scented wonders. Grand if but in majesty of shading from sun’s warm touch, has presented to a child yet again if and through a like child’s sweet sound as she plays near.

Can a simple man even comprehend but a fraction of the splendor he has been given, the creation as she in turn creates.

An examination may be in order, a contemplation of his soul, turning towards spirit, with a look inward to the deeper inner peacefulness, the light and love that in itself burns lightly yet brightly within.

From steadfast supplied wick and oil, he humbly reaches inside with pure and penitent hand, asking a Good and Loving Father for an ear, as a child sits at His feet playing quietly soft and dear, lifting his small lit lamp yet again up for his prayer’s demand.

In the stead of a beckoning world ever pulling from just below the surface of this temple, polluted by all those who have entered to buy and sell, they who plant their own weeds within the garden flowers that are just beginning to bloom, ever should I strive to drive them out.

Safe are the new seed’s within the solid walls resting just between sanctuary of the inner court, and that outer world that threatens beyond, is the mind’s courtyard, the virgin field, in which any possible garden can grow.