We were created as a form of energy;
sharing beauty and love was our role;
capable of being what we want to be;
for, were are the man; the soul.
We are flowers; planted amongst weeds;
our fragrant beauty, blowing in the wind;
the stalks, grown out of mere seeds;
our energy of life, was never to end.
Consciousness was our gift of life;
planted within the Master’s garden;
granted the power to overcome strife;
and promised our Father’s pardon.
We are perfection, grafted with the son;
hiding in the weeds of corruption;
from beginning, designed a part of the one;
the child of evil’s seduction.
Birthed to be, whatever we thought;
we are consciousness; energy, alive;
crowded by the weeds also wrought;
by God’s grace; gifted to survive.
We’re the children of the Master’s grace;
planted in his garden above;
life, itself, devoid of time or space;
for we are created by Love.
Those flowers, amongst the weeds, born;
crafted by the Father in his garden above;
one by one, He removed each thorn;
and all that remains, is His Love.