There
is a story I want to tell it well.
I saw a flower
growing, it was a tiny sprig,
I reached forth my
hand which began to work
on behalf of the
flower
so brave was that
flower
to even show up in
that dry wasteland as a sprig,
now, my hands work
joyously
in a garden
as hands that belong
to
the source of all
flowers of courage
Now you have heard
my story I warn you. Do not let your mind turn you down a dark
hallway presuming I should take the credit for this garden or you
will remain in the dark until you turn around and carefully retrace
your steps to where you made that turn. There you will find me. I am
the humility in human being whose meekness has inherited Earth. Did
you know such wisdom resides in meekness? Once I was in the exact
spot to allow a tiny flower to hit me sideways. As I recall it now, I
was there as if by accident, but, an accident that seemed to know me
better than I know me. In fact, I would say that accident somehow
introduced me to myself as I know me to be. I am.
