Converge

     
I thought a garden had been planted,
    that the bed of seedlings would grow strong.
I thought the path we traveled artless and by nature,
    that we could find our way blindfolded.
I knew the road was rocky,
    But I thought it could be paved, and lead somewhere.
When I felt that I was drowning,
    I thought I could be saved by just breathing air with you.

      Should you live your life supposing
      That things will always go your own way?
      Can’t you try to have some patience,
      To live the way you feel you must?

I thought that garden was well planted; but
    Then seedlings sprouted, and seemed dead.
Hah! I thought the path was marked; but then a storm came --
    A tree fell over and blocked the way.
I even thought the concrete paving of the rocky road was ready --
    I started driving -- then, without a sign, it ended. Dead.
I was sure I couldn’t drown, so I splashed in happy shallows,
    Then a hidden wave pulled me under to the deep.

      So should you live your life supposing
      Things always are disintegrating?
      Can’t you try to have some patience,
      While living in a way that you can trust?

That garden that I thought was dead or dying,
    came alive with just our laughter;
The path, with dragging limbs obstructing,
    seemed better hidden -- with its secrets;
That unsettling violent road just wanted us to map it;
And when I thought that I was drowning, and
    floundered in unaccustomed depths,
    You threw me a kiss that saved me, spoke kind words that pulled me out.

      From now on I'll not live my life supposing
      That things will always go along the way I plan;
      That’s why I bid Impatience to allow Adventure
      So I can live the way I know I must.
     
            (14 days later...)

That garden that died then came alive?
    Well it was killed at last by an early frost;
Smudge pots and glass frames and sunshine
    couldn't bring it back to life. Frost kills.
The path has been obliterated, its secrets
    turned out to be pitfalls and traps;
That violent road couldn't be mapped, it buckled, too weak;
At last I knew I was drowning when I couldn't draw a breath.
    This time there were no heartfelt words, no blown kisses.
    All I could hear was wailing from my own grey ghost.

      From now on I'll stop supposing, stop hoping.
      Things go the way they will, you can't interfere.
      Oh I can tell impatience to allow Adventure,
      But I will live like I used to from now on, and
      I'll cross another desert, then another, 'til the end.