There was a time when you were by my side.
You stayed there with devotion.
Little did I know I was keeping you away
from somewhere of your own.
With time you would wander away from me,
I let you go – not fully knowing where you sought.
Before long, you would go for longer and longer times.
I let you. I wondered, but did not intrude.
The time came when you seldom returned.
I could no longer wait patiently.
My mind first tried to follow but could not see beyond the trees.
It was up to my feet to find the truth.
So I began to follow you, further and further each day.
Deep into your forest, beyond the places I knew.
Beyond those places where I knew you.
Eventually it led me to your secret place, your secret garden.
I knew not of this place
although you had hinted of it to me many times.
Perhaps even invited me. Did you really want me there?
Yet now all I can do is sit in the shadows and observe.
A glorious place, surrounded by high thickets
brambles, vines and thorns.
Yet beautiful in it’s simplicity,
overwhelming in it’s delicate complexity.
As you would enter, some times you tread lightly
others you dive in head long to tend to it’s needs.
It showed some neglect, but bore signs of renewed care.
but even in your moments of haste, your tending was precise.
A well worn path – older than our time together,
overgrown with time but awaiting your touch –
snakes through the foilage guiding your feet.
You walk it daintily but with subdued passion.
There are now many times after you leave,
I stay to enjoy it’s beauty and admire your work.
Roses and daisies. Marigolds and pansies. Bachelor buttons and mums.
Many more flowers each distinct and beautiful that I have yet to indentify.
The flowers fill the air with their fragrance
The greens grow strong and bright.
Some plants grow with simple purity,
other I see twisted and don’t understand.
Yet you return to tend to them and on occasion,
the most twisted vine of thorns and roses gets your most care.
With time I begin to appreciate the beauty of those as well.
The most contorted twists and turns reveal an intentioned design – beautiful!
You bend and stoop, mind your time, care to your passions, tend to the greenery.
You wander along the twisted footpaths, and between the shrubbery.
Your mind full of thoughts and dreams I can only begin to understand.
Your eyes seeing things in ways I had never seen.
I saw too the chairs and benches throughout the garden,
especially the two in the center. Glorious if not simple.
The benches place about in well chosen places to allow one to rest – reflect
the two in the center as a center focus – perhaps a purpose to all that is about them.
The One seat set higher than the other, and the other at the foot of the One.
Often you would wipe it clean and tend to area around.
You would sit at the foot of the higher chair,
but never on the higher seat. What was it for? A throne perhaps?
Examing closer there almost seemed a purpose – the high seat, the One…
the paths all leading around it, the flowers all leading to it.
All around it tended focused your mind upon it,
the true purpose of this place was what it seemed. Or did I just seem to want it that way?
With time you would bring others to the garden,
as your recent ministering renewed it’s face.
I could see your desire to share this place,
and could sense the need you had within for sharing.
You would show them your flowers,
let them admire the greenery,
walk them before the twisted vines.
Could they imagine how you tended to every contorted twist?
You would sit with them on the benches
Some would hold you while you would would bend over a particular flower.
Few would understand the time you spent here.
Many would never know the things I witnessed from afar.
Yet some seemed to understand certain things better than I.
Watching them I would appreciate more why things were…
Why a bush bent this way or that, why a shrub would seem to lean to the side.
And I would understand why you brought them here, them and not me.
I watched as one stood over you before your favorite rose,
they would smile as you knelt to smell it, a tear streaming down your cheek.
Your hand clasped around it’s stem – no doubt the thorns peircing your skin.
I watched as the blood trickled through your fingers.
You arose and turned around to face him.
He nodded and gave you a smile.
You lowered your head as he came around to hold you.
But he did not see your head raise slight to look around… perhaps for someone else?
Your glance seemed to go beyond the edges of the garden.
Did you know I was here? How I wished you were looking for me.
But how could you know – how could it be?
It seemed you come here to escape from me – perhaps I’m just a fool.
Your search seemed brief but in earnest, and my hiding place sound.
Then your eyes turned to the One chair in the center,
the fact had not escaped me that no one ever sat there. Not even you.
Would that chair be reserved for me? I dare not presume so much.
I can but return day after day,
to watch you work and learn what I can, and take joy in learning.
Enjoy the simple beauty of you here as you toil
and to try to forget the others who share what I cannot.
Perhaps I shall grow careless, perhaps I will mean to do so.
to make my presence known, leave a footprint or make a sound.
Perhaps you will learn I am watching, see where I am hiding,
perhaps you already know. Perhaps I assume too much.
I can but sit and watch you tending to your tasks,
enjoy in your beauty and the beauty of your secret garden.
To learn what I can and to wonder, is there a place for me here?
Is this place here already for that purpose?
(this entry is a work in progress – check back as I will likely edit it many, many times as well as add to it – my observations that lead to this peice are still ongoing. My hiding place still my own ‘secret place’ and personal retreat. My observations still my own personal mission. This entry just one of it’s many results)