God's Garden

God doesn’t create all of our hearts to be beautiful, Righteous and dutiful For when he plucked a flower to stick behind my ear He was the only one who could sense my fear He reached down into the garden and surveyed for his pick One was shriveled, bent over and sick Two were hidden away in a shadow One was broken, but the tallest of the meadow One was wavy, curved happily and speckled One was red, pale, ugly, and freckled There was a clump of the small and diseased A large one bent over and wheezed All of them grew roots thick To a single word, stark and slick Only one remains free from the word’s grasp One short flower with downturned petals, his breath a rasp That flower was the most beautiful of all The only one who survived the great fall And so God plucked the flower from the dirt And left it drifting through the water’s outskirt The water carried the flower gently to my hands He pricked me, and there the prick stands When God stuck the flower behind my ear Away flew all of my fear For I was in the presence of something godly Something radiant but something folly For that flower brought enchantment and wonder to the garden Without that flower their hearts began to harden So that is how I know that most hearts are twisted As I watch that garden become misted For that flower, most pure hearted of all Was the only one to brave the great fall