If You Plant It, It Will Grow
The simplest truth is buried in the dust,
A promise whispered by the gardener's hand,
A tiny seed committed to the trust
Of fertile earth across the waiting land.
It needs the sun, the rainfall, and the air,
A humble start beneath the grassy seam,
But if you grant the patience and the care,
If you plant it, it will grow, a living dream.
Beyond the furrow, the metaphor takes flight,
And seeks the deeper landscape of the mind,
For every thought that blossoms into light,
Is but a seed of a much different kind.
The sudden spark of an inventive scheme,
A notion born of midnight's lonely hour,
It starts as fragile as a waking dream,
A nascent root that craves the sap of power.
You plant the Idea in the conscious soil,
And water it with hours of hard thought,
The tending hand is discipline and toil,
The early fears must patiently be fought.
For critics are the weeds that choke the vine,
And doubt the chilling frost that seeks to kill,
But if the structure of your will is fine,
It finds the sunlight, and it grows, it will.
Then contemplate the seed of Character sown,
Not in a field, but in the heart's deep core,
A tiny courtesy that's gently thrown,
A choice to learn where you had failed before.
You plant the habit of consistent grace,
The tiny daily act of being kind,
A hundred small decisions interlace,
To form the mighty timber of the mind.
The oak of Virtue does not rise in haste,
It is the sum of choices made unseen,
The hours of study that were never waste,
The quiet practice of what it should mean
To live with purpose, honor, and with light.
Each tiny effort forms the sturdy base,
So guard the ground and keep the motive right,
For what you nurture sets the steady pace.
Turn now and see the Seed of Love you place,
Within another's fragile, open palm,
A covenant held safe in time and space,
A shelter offered from the driving storm.
The root is trust, the stem is honest speech,
The daily tending is the listening ear,
A boundless patience that you have to reach,
To quiet all the whispers born of fear.
This planting asks for more than just desire,
It asks for constancy, a steady hold,
To fan the flame beneath the dying fire,
And watch the story of your life unfold.
The branches intertwine against the sky,
And bear the fruit of friendship, deep and true,
The strongest bond is not a sudden tie,
But one you tend each morning, fresh and new.
And last, consider the Seed of Action cast,
The subtle, spinning echo of our deed,
The silent law of what will surely last,
The necessary measure of the need.
You speak a blessing, or you hurl a stone,
You build a bridge, or tear a barrier down,
The consequence will later stand alone,
As either harvest, or a barren ground.
The Karma sown is hidden, but it waits,
It is the shadow of the things we do,
The steady turn of universal fates,
That brings the pattern back to me and you.
No planting can be truly lost or gone,
No quiet labor ever fades away,
The seed is waiting for the coming dawn,
To break the surface in its own due day.
So be the planter of a better world,
Of equity, of justice, and of peace,
Let every banner of your life be unfurled,
In search of moments where the good increase.
The soil is open, waiting for your hand,
The sun is shining on the field you own,
Take up the burden that you understand,
The power lies in what you choose to sow.
