BEYOND THE GARDEN GATE

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Just this side of the garden gate,

Much sadness to behold,

Left to contemplate my fate,

A plot where hope grows cold.

Jealous minds and hardened hearts,

The weeds that choke and bind,

Haughty and self-righteous tones,

Monstrous trees which block the light.

Souls are blackened by schemes and lies,

Which nurture fruitless and barren soil,

Where hate and envy flourish unchained,

Sow discord, hatch egregious turmoil.

The steely glances and belittling glares,

Take root in once tender sprouts,

Turn the beauty that might otherwise exist,

To misery, heartache, and doubt.

Arrogance, egoism, and blatant conceit,

Like shrubbery and underbrush abound,

Dream of finding a soft patch, my Eden,

But to this graveyard, I am desperately bound.

Towering walls and unyielding stones,

Shield the garden virtuous and true,

Defy my futile, half-hearted attempts,

To escape this pitch-black, cold tomb.

Weak I grow and fading fast,

The sun’s bright radiance escapes me,

But in the rubbish which mires my feet,

A vine appears to teach me.

Scales the walls, and under the gate,

It creeps, winds into my darkness,

Hearty and hale despite the night,

Grows nearer – “Come,” it harkens.

Follow its trail from my bitter dead plot,

Face to face with the glorious garden gate,

The vine, it beckons, “You hold the key,”

Swing the door – a path narrow and straight.

Beyond the gate, brimming with brightness,

Vibrant colors, lush growth do astound,

Fresh welcomes, open arms, joyous hearts,

Lively blooms which are everywhere found.

Approval peeks from the cracks in the stones,

Encouragement and praise line the walkways,

Gentleness and hope scatter the grounds,

Their flowers form grand, bold bouquets.

No immense, looming trees to block out the sun,

No weeds strangle the souls of the living,

No scornful judgments which stunt their growth,

Only mercy and tender thanksgiving.

Just outside the gate, bleak and foreboding,

The world turns so withered and dead,

But in the garden, radiant and blossoming,
Souls take flight; they are delivered from dread.