What if problems indeed be poems bursting with secret meanings, of a secret world of their own, leading us by our noses, playing with a practiced ease? What if they were sent our way to test whatever little faith we all have, or to secretly keeping an eye, to cool our tempers and put a check on our lashing tongue, what if they meant to keep us from straying afar, stumbling after reaching the heights, since we were running alone to gather the riches, with no thought of sharing with all those fools, that’s what everyone else is called, who happens to be outside the hallowed halls, the curtains of bulletproof glass drowning the voices, bored, with the wretched zombies outside, watching the barricaded doors wringing their hands, what do you say, when life’s a party, who dares to permit the entry of problems even as a poem.
What can it offer to our jaded taste, who have seen and played all the games, its just a nuisance, a minor inconvenience, who need to be taught in such a barbaric way, so when the teacher is ready the student disappears. Who can welcome the problems amidst, when the roof is leaking and the walls have gone. But with a sweet smile and a kind voice living there, bids them to enter, to share their wretched lives. Since sharing things is the only way of life, with no place to hoard or hide, and refusing to wither and die, with no one to share with or to care for.
Maybe the problems seek such humble hearts, to make the connection and receive the gifts of wisdom and strength, praising the Lord, as Lord Himself seeks out the chosen ones to understand the poems and sing aloud the new songs, of praise and gratitude, of joy, hope and happiness, a promise of peace and everlasting love, playing through the broken reeds and the mute flutes, with Lord holding them close lovingly with infinite love and care.
The Garden of Bliss
5 years ago