In the badlands of pain’s wasteland
Flourishes an unexpected garden,
Tended by the loving companion,
Of all who enter its fated bastion.
He faithfully guides each person,
Through the ashes of its embers,
Through pain’s sharp fiery doors;
While keeping Gehanna moored.
He knows all who enter by name
Having shaped their mortal frame.
He leads each to the trellis of advantage,
From there, to tend to blooms of courage
Pinned onto vicissitudes’ fragrant corsage.