10-27-2015, 03:00 AM
So I once took a little walk one little day,
To a garden I heard of, an answer per se -
A place of promises, beauty, darkness, and art,
Of rest and work and thought and heart.
The first thing I noticed, it was a little thing see,
Was this was no garden where a flower might be.
For instead of reds and yellows, greens and browns,
I saw only gray thorn bushes with stony flower crowns.
As I stepped into the garden, I noticed something more;
It was not just the bushes, but the leaves on the floor!
I startled when I heard a rock beneath my feet,
To see a leaf there under it - what a silly deceit!
I looked all around me, and I listened a little too.
It was so quiet and stoic – you could only hear you!
There was no wind, no water, not a single thing stirred;
If a pin were to drop, it would surely be heard.
Though motionless it was, the garden seemed to stop
As my eyes - they met with the statue's – there at the top.
It appeared to be looking at me - its eyes locked with mine,
And I quickly picked up my pace - I had to see this sign.
I sat down in front of it, and I examined it quite a bit,
For it was a beauty of intricacy – like a cloth neatly knit.
It was a man sharply drawn with scarred hands reached out;
It made me want to know... What was this statue about?
I saw the inscription describing this depiction -
This design of a man with a most loving conviction,
And it moved me to cry – if I had tears to share -
And left me in awe, and with a desire to stay there.
And I would have danced then, oh how I wished to leap!
How I wished to run there, laugh some, and weep!
But I looked down and found a truth I had forgot,
This stony garden was home, and being stony my lot.
I was as lifeless as the flowers, bound to the floor,
I could not even move now, no not an inch anymore.
I toppled forward in agony, unable to soften my blow,
And I broke there, in front of him, left in my woe.
I looked up - and I swear this is true - his eyes had a twinkle,
And a tear rolled down his cheek, til on my face it did sprinkle.
And it touched something in me I thought was long gone;
It tuned my inner dusk into an inner dawn.
I heard a noise above me, and I dared to open my eyes;
Is it possible this statue could hear my inner cries?
His turned his head towards me, still broken on the floor,
His gray gaze was flesh now, shining more than before.
My eyes were always open, but he opened them again,
And He lifted me out of the stones into the company of men.
He smiled at me, and his warmth touched my very soul;
His love mended my brokenness, and made this man whole.
He let me grab His hand, and He loved me so dearly
That I forgot where I was, though I was seeing so clearly!
I gasped a little at first, and laughed a little as well,
When I knew that I knew that forever here would I dwell.
And as we both looked around, our hands still entwined,
I noticed the beauty of the garden – I must have been blind!
The roses were loud with their color, and their smell – divine,
I could hardly grasp that this beauty to behold was surely mine.
And the grays and stones – they were nowhere to be seen,
I wondered at this spectacle, on what it could mean?
And my companion paused, and he turned to me his face,
And he looked me in the eyes, and said, "My son, this is grace."
