The Garden.

The Garden

The most attractive and attracting reality is love. It is the
garden that two must make into one.

A man seeks his ideal woman. A woman her ideal man.
Both must reclaim a garden for their ideal love.
In this love toil, we grow as perfect lovers. The search for
love, is but a journey we take seeking our own perfection.

Romance is our beautiful fable, a couplet of enactment,
that a plot of enrichment be tilled from each other. It is a
cultivation choreographed by the soul, that it might once
again experience the bittersweet wine of being loves
remembrance.

There is a truth in the human soul that say: Love me for
what I am, not what you see, or believe you need from me.
A women is always dishonored when a man does not
respond to that truth. A man always accepts less then
himself when he ignores this.

A woman becomes an ax in self defense. She knows
instinctively when a man is being insincere to love. As the
ovum of creation, She has a deeper affinity to her life. Man
can plant a seed and walk away. He is not so deep in the
garden of love. A man turns to stone, when a woman no
longer sees her harvest in him.

Man must try to give himself, yet keep his freedom. He is a
hunter gatherer. The art of gardening is something he has
to learn. He is always looking for the Goddess of his dream
world, who will not bind him to the garden. The Goddess
keeps calling him to stay. Stay in this womb of love. Yet he
is compelled to hunt for Her image elsewhere. When woman
first tasted the fruit of knowledge only man made it an
obsession. That self will, brought about the division of their
garden.

Woman chooses her partner hoping to find that original
lover again. Man seeks his partner as he would a rare
flower. Both search for something that they can embody as
a perfect garden. Just as a seed contains all possibilities, the
full potential of this garden is in the planting and the
nourishing, not only the seed.

Men who are stones, want to make the garden in their
image. A woman who is an ax wants to make her gardener
in her image. Yet they should stay in the seed of love until
the earth of remembrance covers them both. It does not
matter who the gardener is, only that love is planted deep in
the hearts of both.

No one guesses who the Beloved is, until they give
themselves completely to otherness. Then otherness becomes
the orgasm of them both. The bliss of one love drowning
them, to become the harvest of their ocean.

Love will keep reminding us of the garden in every form
that we see it in, until we cease believing in axes and stones,
and become the seed of loves womb. Love has no ax to
grind, nor stone to grind it upon. Love asks us to discard
every rock, and bury every hatchet of separation, so that a
real plowing of each other, born of shared desire brings
forth abundant fertility.

Stay close to the Beloved in yourself, and in your lover. This
cherishing inspires your breath, and the breath you share
with your loved one. For now, stay between the ax and the
stone, and let no difference come between you both. Then
you can plant, not an image of love, but the vine of love, that
you may both drink of the same wine.

Lovers are the sweetest fruits of the earth. They plant
within the field of time, their one heart, and watch it grow.
For a lovers heart, has uncovered the secret of the universe.
The field of their dreams is the garden of God.

Love needs no gaudy manifestation, but says: Love me in all
that you see of me. I am your daffodil and your poppy, I live
on the wind of transience, as much as I live in the truth of
your heart. Love me anyway. I am your decay and your
eternal truth. Love me in the soil of being and love me in the
seed of your faith. love me as myself, and I shall never
desert you.