Gardens And Graves

I began my path across the forest deep;

It sank, it dipped, it rose, and ran straight.

There calls of birds and of the things that creep;

I continued on the path and wondered what was my fate.

The deer came panting and so was I;

I had come upon the withered brook.

With one toss, a turn, and a sigh;

I glimpsed a fish and that I took.

It shone and flopped with prettiest colors of red;

but I was hungry and found a rock;

"I'm sorry friend." That is what I said;

so I dug a hole and thanked him for a good talk.

I came upon a garden and saw wonders of hedges;

greek statues of old and a fountain with seats upon its ledges.

I sang songs of joy and plenty;

there is peace on this path and it is many.

I sang songs for cupid and psyche;

I admired Hercules with his strength of the gods.

He is one I admire for he was mighty;

but who am I, a person of the heaven or the sod?

But there upon the center in a container of glass;

laid a rose with the color black.

It was so precious and it was one of a kind;

so I asked it to see if it could be mine.

So I opened the glass and admired the creation;

I studied the stem and I was enthralled by its tantalization.

I saw the thorns and the way it shone dark;

I asked it for adventure and it said lets embark.

We began to walk after I placed it in the pocket of my breast;

there it was closest to my heart and I thought it was blessed.

It spoke to me in blazing passion and its green became gold;

but I forgot that color can quickly grow cold.

I began the game I learned when I was young;

this became a song that I sung.

Love or love me not and that was the game;

I peeled back the layers and they seemed all the same.

The petals kept falling off and the true colors came to show;

I saw fear, envy, hope, faith, joy, and pain, all of which I came to know.

But still one question remained as it became bare;

I wanted to know if the last petal had the words that I did care.

So pull and drop, the trail of previous steps lay with remnants of the flower;

but I did not know if it was I that contained the power.

To my surprise, it sprouted roots and they took hold;

in and out my heart in all its folds.

I had no choice but to keep pulling to find my answer;

was this a cure or was it a cancer.

The rose grew and it made me glad but I was nearing the end;

I saw in the distance a garden that I needed to attend.

So the fated response had come;

my heart began to pound like the beat of a drum.

I wish to know what I was taught;

the last petal was pulled and it was love me not.

So I began to take out its roots;

and I strapped on my boots.

Carefully I took it out and put it in the sun;

there it can grow to a bushel and give travelers the same feelings as when I begun.

I brushed off the dirt and looked to the path ahead;

thanked the lord and the seeds I gained, I spread.

Will I find another flower? I do not know;

but I know that the winds will continue to blow.

I look behind to see the leafs that lay;

it hurt to know that there was nothing left to say.

I heard a noise and upon branches was a dove;

it told me there is beauty in the hurt and the love.

For God has made everything beautiful in its own time.