P
princessmench
Guest
A very good soil I cultivated,
There in the center buried a tiny seed,
Watered, sun shined, sprouted,
'Til a bud forms, beautiful indeed.
Somehow, weeds just came along,
Trying to choke the bud from it's form,
There the bud knew she doesn't belong,
From the garden, she thought she conform.
"I don't belong here," she said to the others,
Then, look up and saw Me, her faithful Gardener,
"I've separated you, that's your greatest need,
Trust Me, to tend and make you stronger."
She bowed down, her will to believe,
That what I said will truly conceive,
She let Me tend her, to grow, to live,
I cared for her and I never leave.
Storms came and thus, rock the bud,
She called for help to Me, up above,
Blinded, forsaken, feeling so sad,
"Can You hear me?" she cried, oh so starve.
Just when she decided to give up,
Sunshine creep through the clouds,
Me, the Gardener walks down the path,
Saw a flower, beaten but oh, so proud.
Ah! My dearest magnificent rose.
I see you've grown a midst your deepest gloom,
I Am contented, to see you arose,
I tended you well, now in full bloom.
That's what My heart desires you to be,
With inner strength that comes from Me,
Remember, preparing you eternal way,
Ready to be pick-up, to be use more by Me.