Happiness is the Art of Mental Gardening

A poem to celebrate the daily act of spiritual freedom

My life is a garden,
That somehow grew wild,
With crops of seeds,
Planted as a child.

I wasn’t aware,
And nor that I should,
Have seen what would grow,
Or instead what could.

All the seeds I gathered,
Some based on needs,
Not paying attention,
To those that were weeds.

I allowed it to grow,
In a wild sort of fashion,
Rarely was I conscious,
More out of passion.

I found myself full,
Of clutter, no care;
Hardly able to breathe,
With no space to spare.

I looked at my garden,
Not sure where to start;
So I began in the middle,
As a way to my heart.

I daily pulled weeds,
To declutter my mind,
Hoping that under,
Heath I will find.

The richness of soil,
That gave birth to the fall;
All I wanted to do,
Was to transform it all.

I planted new seeds,
In them, I believed;
For that is the way,
New life is conceived.

I invited the bees,
Of friends whom I’m blessed;
They pollinate my life,
In their love, I do rest.

My life is a garden,
I care for each day;
Removing all that,
Which gets in the way.

I water my garden,
And tend to the earth;
So I can honor the gift
I was given at birth.

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