The Garden

Can you meet me in that place,

It’s out in the wilderness,

In the depths of the Forrest of the heart,

It’s a place where the purity of the connection is like the Virgin snow,

To be able to leave the muddied ego at the door,

Pouring yourself fully into the connection like a raging waterfall. 

Allowing the innocent rabbit of honesty to run through the field.

Connecting with the tenacity of the salmon swimming up stream.

Cultivating The garden of the connection,

Allowing no weeds to take root,

Culminating in the blossoming of new life. 


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