The Garden
Our life is like a garden, attended by what we do not know.
When fed love and compassion,
Our flowers bloom, and our fruit grows sweet.
When fed hatred and pain,
Our flowers wither, and our fruit rot.
Our life is like a garden, attended by what we do not know.
When we die we're picked from the tree of life;
Whether we've
Beautifully bloomed into marvelous fruit, blessed by the gods above, or
Fell off the tree
Rotten and torn
Plagued by the stench of our failures to live the life in which we set.
The way we are treated is the way we grow-
Kindness and Respect will forever prosper.
Pain and Sorry will collapse into a pit of darkness bloom until there's nothing left but a shadow version of you.
Our life is a garden; how it's attended to is all up to what you intend to do.
