DESERTS & GARDENS
I. Desert Sands
Not a wildflow’r grows here,
Nor do birds fly overhead;
The creeks have long since now been dried;
The creatures are gone or dead.
And there is not an end in sight;
No trees to block the Sun;
The wind dares not to enter here—
Our exile’s just begun.
Throughout each night, we seek the stars,
And march to distant lands,
Through day we rest beneath the Sun
And fry on desert sands.
And not an hour of respite
Do we find from bubbling skin,
Or from shivers in the coldest nights,
Or from temptations and sin.
For we’ve now entered hell on earth
We mourn and curse the gods,
We laugh at what is sacred,
As we claw our way to God.
But as the Sun tips overhead,
A dream, our souls doth find,
For we now roam the worlds above,
Planting gardens in our minds.
II. Come Now
Come now, ye prophets—
Enter the land;
Speak ancient Wisdom
And tend to thy lambs!
Hear all the words
That I whisper to thee;
Know of the gardens
Thine eyes soon will see.
But know, too, thy limits,
For God seeth near;
These words are not certain,
Lest listening ears hear.
Come now, musicians—
Play what you know,
Show us a feeling
And give us a show.
Teach us the spirit
Of our current time;
Play us the rhythm
And sing us the rhyme.
Send up thy praise
To thy God and THE ONE,
And let us all hear thee;
For our day has just begun.
Come now, ye poets—
Kindle thy spark;
Write what you see,
And aim at the mark.
Dare not to falter,
Nor lean on thy pride,
But be thou now humble,
For thine heart is thy guide.
And know that thine heart
Is not separate from Mine,
And that we are one being:
Both dead and divine.
Come now, thou seers—
Thy vision is clear;
See for thy people
And teach them to fear.
Walk on the paths
That thine ancestors trod;
Sit on high mountains
And speak to thy God.
Show us the visions of
Hell that you see,
As well as the heavens
Where we’ll all soon be.
Come now, ye shepherds—
Tend to thy flock;
Hear not the murmurs
From those who now mock;
For soon all will know
Of the wolves that surround,
And they’ll all return swiftly
When, God, they have found.
Come now, ye seekers—
Green pastures abound;
Lush gardens are growing;
Fresh waters we’ve found!
Take now thy cup
And drink from this fountain,
Be thou deceived, and then
Climb up the mountain.
See thou afar o’er the
Deserts we knew,
Seek wise discernment
Of Gentile and Jew,
And know that if thou
Wouldst now eat of the fruit,
Thine eyes will be opened
To branch, seed, and root.
Come now, ye mystics—
Show us the way;
Tell us true stories
Of night and of day.
Teach us to listen
And help us to see;
Wander the hills
And sit by the sea.
And when thou hath found
Fertile plains in thy mind,
Build there a small village
That we, too, may find.
Come now, ye carpenters—
Lend of thy hands;
Build us some homes,
The weather, to stand.
Come now, ye masons—
A temple, we’ll need,
To worship our God
Who, from deserts, did lead.
Come now, ye warriors—
Wrestle with fate!
Guard our small village
And wait at the gate!
For in lands such as these,
Horrid dragons abound
And ye must have courage
If ye will be crowned.
Come now, ye farmers—
Tend well to the plains;
Nurture thy gardens
And share all thy gains.
Thine harvest will save us
In times of great need,
So till all thy soil
And plant all thy seeds.
Come now, ye sinners,
And come now, ye saints,
Yield to THE ONE, who can
Lift thine constraints.
Form thee one family
And seek what is right;
Aim at thy target
And put up a fight.
Come now, ye jokers—
Tell what you see;
Give us the fruits
Of a soul, young and free.
Reveal all the tyrants
And beggars and fools,
Unmask all the traitors
And call to the mules.
Make thee a path,
That the way may be known,
By the Son who now cometh
To rebuild his home.
Come now, sweet Saviour,
Give us a dream;
Set our souls free
On this ultralight beam.
Suffer the mockers
Who spit on thy face;
Tend to the humble
With courage and grace.
Be thou the finest
And Play the best games;
Whisper to God as ye
Wander the plains.
And if thou shouldst seek to,
Thy purpose, fulfil,
Then carry thy cross up
And die on a hill.
For then shall the dead
All arise from their sleep,
And all shall be nourished
As all strive and weep.
III. Gardens of the Mind
Is there any fact more reassuring to a man than this; that he, as with all other men, must endure the basest of our animal instincts, and yet also that he, as with all other men, has within his grasp at all times the power to commune with that which is most divine about him?
I say, brethren, take heed of thy heart’s most fervent desires! Art thou not called to greener pastures than these? Does not a sweet whisper resound from the depths and into thy souls? Must we not rescue from the desert that which is most holy about us? As with me, brethren, it has often been the case that when I have wondered thoughtfully in search of something honest, something pure, or something wise, I have returned with great abundance.
And so I ask thee to scorn those desires which have only bore fruits of deception and pain, and lo, I ask thee also to seek out those yearnings of the heart which do not deceive, and which are true and beautiful. Such desires are the seeds which will turn thy failures into triumphs, thy worst faults into thy greatest strengths, and thy desert sands into flourishing gardens, were good fruit abounds, and where pure rivers flow.
If thou shouldst heed this call, and if thou shouldst seek a holy communion with God, then thou wilt have no say but to rejoice in the same tone as the poet, who wrote;
Oh, that we should remember,
The desert sands we’ve marched,
O’er forty days and forty nights,
While broken, starved, and parched.
Oh, that we should sing our praise
In whichever way we do,
To THE ONE, who gave deliverance,
And carried our aching hearts through.
Oh, that we should tarry
In these gardens we’ve now found,
Where milk and honey flow throughout,
And where our souls may now sleep sound.
