CLOISTERED GARDEN

In my cloistered garden, blood red roses lie,
Bowed, surrendered, to sharp sword of morning light;
Diamond drops of dew mirror the shining sky,
Blue forget-me-nots cradle Easter lilies white.
All’s hushed in heart’s deep haven bright;
A silence profound descends, the dawn of peace.
Simply to be still, is our yearning soul’s release.
The gardener comes, to summer prune a bloom,
With tender care he cuts its sappy stem,
The lustrous sun disperses earthly gloom,
Each radiant rose glows like a ruby gem.
The temple of the Goddess is her bridal hem;
Each green leaf and fragrant summer rose
Is breathing beauty, where one’s True Nature knows