“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.”― Victor Hugo
The future… a flower too delightful to pluck, As it blossoms In hope filled fields of thought, Swaying to destiny’s winds. Amid the branch of all life – Its fragrance, Often, Our heart’s only companion, Enchants our expectations.
Are we hemmed in; Or, are we Lovingly planted, In the spiritual gardens of the familiar – Our homes.
“Our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection, not in books alone but in every leaf in springtime.” – Martin Luther
Perhaps, The Sun is so warmly welcomed, Not only Because it enlivens our senses; But, because Every day Its ordained duty, Is to pour Another precious drop, Of the light of eternal glory, Into the secret depths, Of our awaiting soul.
Oh… to be as content As a bird finding a place to land its feet. Trusting the branch for support, until it is time to take flight, into another beyond.
Wherever our private sanctuary – Whether safely sequestered indoors Or, fastening our gaze on life outdoors, Two mysteries persist: Each of us was given life, From the same soil, And, throughout this life, The Earth Is Our Home.
Rooftops in browns and red Covered in snow, like icing on gingerbread. While tall evergreens, Winter’s arrows, Point silently to heaven. Soon the earth will burst into bloom, As nature opens its ballroom To the annual Spring gala, Where everyone is welcome, To come as you are.
“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.” ― Albert Camus