How did it get this far?
When did the old outside world turn in?
The perceptual wonder of the yesteryears...
A world that was always in bloom...
Slowly decaying by those who have forgotten.
Hope is my seed of preservation...
Remembrance the fertile ground,
God the blessed moisture.
Growth is inevitable but not outwardly evident.
My heart begins to sprout.
Joy swells inside but I anticipate a judging eye,
The plant of growth reaches beyond my capacity,
A testament to the seeds endless destiny.
The fruit so exquisite it beckons to be shared.
I pluck off the branches the best I have to give,
Hoping to witness the joy which has so consumed me.
No longer seeing the world as decay,
But full of truth...of meaning...of passion.
Reaching forth hesitantly to give,
I am startled to find with each hand that receives,
My offering is replaced with exquisite fruit from another.
Entirely new to the taste...
My mind overrun with emotion,
And thought from whence it came.
Shades of hope, remembrance, and the creator...
But grown in such a way that is entirely new.
Cultivated in another heart,
From another place,
An entirely new point of view...
Inspiring once again the youthful eye...
Revealing to me truth as I have never seen.
I intend to give, but receive all the more.
The world was never desolate,
The decay was in my eyes...
The truth evident in all its fruits,
Shared from the hearts of courage.
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