Changes

The Gardener didn't want to face himself with the possibility that he might have failed, and so, like an adolescent who knows only his frustration, wanted to take his revenge.

The Gardener didn't want to face himself with the possibility that he might have failed, and so, like an adolescent who knows only his frustration, wanted to take his revenge.

He took one trite and broken seen he had excluded from his dream of a perfect garden and journeyed to the desert land. He walked with the belligerence of a defeated martyr far into the desert away from any water and cast the seed onto the dry, barren sand, looked at it for just a moment as if he wanted to scorch it first with a fiery stare from his frozen eyes, and ground it into the the sand with his head hardened heel and said “there! You have what you want, even more than you deserve. I gave you everything before and you gave me nothing but your delirious vines, so take this, this nothing, and grow yourself a beautiful flower, for no one to admire, no one to see, that probably no one would want, that is, if you grow at all, you scribbly little seed”.

He took one trite and broken seen he had excluded from his [[dream]] of a perfect garden and journeyed to the desert land. He walked with the belligerence of a defeated martyr far into the desert away from any water and cast the seed onto the dry, barren sand, looked at it for just a moment as if he wanted to scorch it first with a fiery stare from his frozen eyes, and ground it into the the sand with his head hardened heel and said “there! You have what you want, even more than you deserve. I gave you everything before and you gave me nothing but your delirious vines, so take this, this nothing, and grow yourself a [[beautiful]] flower, for no one to admire, no one to see, that probably no one would want, that is, if you grow at all, you scribbly little seed”.

After the gardener had divulged himself of his rage by giving it all to the lonely little seed, he set off never to return again to care for it, but he had forgotten in his rage how far he had come into the desert land, and because he had set of with nothing in mind but hatred and revenge for the seed, he had not thought of himself at all, so he had brought no water. Only after he had long left the seed, did he begin to remember himself, and how he had no water to get through the desert.  

After the gardener had divulged himself of his rage by giving it all to the lonely little seed, he set off never to return again to care for it, but he had forgotten in his rage how far he had come into the desert land, and because he had set of with nothing in mind but hatred and revenge for the seed, he had not thought of himself at all, so he had brought no water. Only after he had long left the seed, did he begin to remember himself, and how he had no water to get through the desert.  

Slowly, but with an inevitable dread, he slowed and slowed 'till he could go no further, and paused, his eyes rolling back in his head, tongue hanging out, wiped dry by the heat of a blazing sun whose heat was one none could conquer but itself; dropped to his knees, wavering a moment, then falling with a lonely breeze.  

Slowly, but with an inevitable dread, he slowed and slowed 'till he could go no further, and paused, his eyes rolling back in his head, tongue hanging out, wiped dry by the heat of a blazing sun whose heat was one none could conquer but itself; dropped to his knees, wavering a [[moment]], then falling with a lonely breeze.  

The gardener had lost all, lost even himself by now. His fingers were the only thing left struggling, digging in a ground of sand that only filled itself again. He began to cry with the loss of his lost prize. The tears that lit paths down his face never reached his tongue that had stretched itself out beyond reach for simply something wet. The Sun absorbed all the tears he had with its reciprocal raging heat 'till finally the Gardener knew he had nothing left except his rejected seed he had given only his scorn, so he knew the seed would never be. When he thought this, he passed away as the wind blew smacking sand in his face.

The gardener had lost all, lost even himself by now. His fingers were the only thing left struggling, digging in a ground of sand that only filled itself again. He began to cry with the loss of his lost prize. The tears that lit paths down his face never reached his tongue that had stretched itself out beyond reach for simply something wet. The [[Sun]] absorbed all the tears he had with its reciprocal raging heat 'till finally the Gardener knew he had nothing left except his rejected seed he had given only his scorn, so he knew the seed would never be. When he thought this, he passed away as the wind blew smacking sand in his face.

Now, here I am, the tiny outcast seed, thrown into the desert by my Gardener who didn't want me to grow, wondering why the pains I have are here; there should be nothing at all. Can I grow without a Gardener, can I grow without water from the sea and sky, without the soil my brothers grew in; oh, how can I grow?

Now, here I am, the tiny outcast seed, thrown into the desert by my Gardener who didn't want me to grow, wondering why the pains I have are here; there should be nothing at all. Can I grow without a Gardener, can I grow without water from the sea and sky, without the soil my brothers grew in; oh, how can I grow?

Can I grow? Yet still, I cannot help myself, I cannot even see, but these pains within me, pains that must be my growth, or else I would not be.

Can I grow? Yet still, I cannot help myself, I cannot even see, but these pains within me, pains that must be my growth, or else I would not be.

Then I cannot help but grow and face the wind that carves the stone for these winds shall be as a Father to my seeds, carrying them to wherever his driving hand may set them down again. I cannot help it, I shall be; be free even in the shifting seas of the desert sands.

Then I cannot help but grow and face the wind that carves the stone for these winds shall be as a Father to my seeds, carrying them to wherever his driving hand may set them down again. I cannot help it, I shall be; be free even in the shifting seas of the desert sands.