The Garden
Slowly silently slithering into the garden of discontent,
Almost unnoticed.
But we are there, ever watchful,
Waiting for you to pounce
On the innocents and the sleepers.
Our garden is overgrown,
Full of weeds and plants that climb
And spread and droop,
And entwine with other types.
But it is beautiful, vibrant,
Blessed by an incandescent sun
And showered by the waters of life.
Keep out!
Cunningly twisting, coiling, curling, creeping,
Trespassing in the darkness
Causing chaos, disorder and fear.
Living things flee, run, hide
But some, the unlucky ones, are ensnared:
Suffocated by their want of vision –
No air, no breath, no life, no light.
Dead.
Look out!
Such a heavenly garden,
So alive, so full of colour and vibrancy.
Soft trees sway in the breeze,
Flowers blossom and die,
But Time renews,
Everything can grow and bear fruit.
Harmony and peace reign, but for you.
Keep out!
The gardener is waiting now; he cannot be deceived.
He closely protects his work.
Forget not, his skill in these labours –
Lovingly tendering the soil, harvesting the fruit.
His toil and forbearance create life, sustain life.
Anger him not, on penalty of death!
Beware.
Poetry and Life Blog 