Stolen Essence

In the midst of chaos and noise,

You tend to your garden, unmoved by the strife,

Your flowers bloom, a symbol of poise

And wisdom that transcends the turbulence of life.

 

For you and your garden are one,

A source of fleeting yet profound delight,

With beauty snatched, a feeling of being undone,

But who can claim a more fleeting and wondrous sight?

 

You have somehow stolen the essence

Of the loveliness that surrounds you,

Flaunting your gains with no pretense,

A profiteer of nature’s bountiful view.

 

I exclaim against your shameless ways,

For the joy you find in your toil,

Should not come so easily, I say,

In a world tarnished by turmoil.

 

But you, in your old, rough dress,

Bedaubed with clay and endless grime,

Find colorful living in a world grown dull, no less,

Bringing quiet sufficiency in weakling times.

 

Your delicate happiness, so beautiful,

Lights up the belittered, grimy ways,

And surely, I will forever recall

Your smudgy face parading such joyous displays.

 

As you tend to your garden with care,

Laughing gently at life’s dastardly days,

Know that your presence is a rare

And meaningful praise.

 

For in the act of tending to your vines and bushes,

You make a brave, sly mock at the darkness around,

And in that, find the beauty that rushes

Out amidst the chaos, making life profound. ("Stolen Essence") by Courtney Weaver Jr.