Your mind is a garden, your thoughts are seeds.

You can grow flowers, or you can grow weeds.

Take thought with the weeds, for they can sometimes sing;

take care with the flowers, for they can sometimes sting.

The roots in our minds can drive deep to the stem;

their pain with their growth bringing pain from within.

The mask from their beauty, to be forgotten;

while the poison lay waiting, hidden and rotten.

Some flowers can bring love, beauty and peace;

others can bring pain, making daylight decrease.

The false light my feel comforting and bright;

the truth showing after the day has turned to night.

The beauty you might find in the bright sky’s of day;

may be a falseness that’s hidden, a bloom laced with grey.

For the face of beauty can dazzle the sight;

but the gift of true elegance lies deep within, out of light.