One day in deep contemplation I thought:
Spring will come,
The green, tender shoots will sprout
Up in anticipation of heavenly precipitation,
But they will all be disappointed,
Some will shrivel, wither and die,
While some will harden.
Summer will arrive, windy, hot,
Stifling and dry, none will make it,
But the tender shoots people care enough to water — The loved ones will stay alive.
Then the Lord told me:
There is a gardener in this world,
Who’s walked the rows,
Plowed the land,
And pulled away the weeds that choke,
But not only this,
He knows the toil of growth,
The trial of drought,
The pain of death.
He grew up before us
As a tender plant,
But there was no beauty that we should desire him.
Therefore he was plucked out, and yet,
He is still in his garden.
