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.