I thought I had found it.

A small garden of Heaven here on Earth.

A place to share my Dreams and my Songs,

My hopes and fears, and my Truth.

For I am a Dreamer of Dreams,

And a Singer of Songs.

A storyteller; and one who heralds knowledge of the Truth.

I planted a seed, and watered it,

But the flower did not take root;

For the soil was hard and unyielding.

As hard as I tried, my Dreams were unheeded,

And my Songs went unheard.

But determination gripped my soul, and I refused to be defeated.

I was mocked, my Truth as well,

But still I poured the cool water upon the soil I knew was thirsting.

And yet, the soil still remained hard and compact,

As cold and unfeeling as brick.

What have I done?

What have I not done?

What can I do to allow you to see the Truth that stands before you?

Has my light not burned bright enough?

Or has it burned too bright?

Once again drying the water and hardening the soil.

The pain, the sweat,

The tears of frustration.

I wept for you, silently pleading;

Wondering what else I could do show you what I have discovered.

Even now, the tears still flow;

As I wonder if this is my last farewell.

Will you ever get the chance to see the Truth again?

Or will the door remain forever closed?

And yet, the hope still lives.

For perhaps the soil is not so hard;

And the seed I planted has taken root somewhere and somehow.

If but one soul has discovered what I have known for so long,

Then my task is accomplished,

And my purpose fulfilled.

Oh, where stands that great nation;

That nation which yearns for knowledge?

On what foundation does it now rest?

How long must we wait

Before the Final Truth is revealed?

How long must we weep

Before our cries are heard?

Will we ever be truly understood and accepted?

Or are we still doomed to bring our Truth before deaf ears?

Still shall I press on, planting my Truth along the way;

And watering it with the tears of hope and frustration.

Still I shall sing my Songs, share my Dreams,

And tell my Stories.

For I am a Dreamer of Dreams,

And a Singer of Songs.

A storyteller; and one who heralds knowledge of the Truth.

This is my sole duty and vow.

For until that Final Day,

I cannot rest, nor cease from my work.

I thought I had found it.

A small garden from Heaven.

I planted a seed, and watered it.

Has it taken root?

Or will the seed die?

No work is ever wasted,

In service of the Truth.

In this garden, I dreamed of life.

Not a vast and untamed jungle,

But perhaps a small garden of flowers and herbs,

Reaching towards the Sun.

But are my Dreams now empty?

Are my Songs now hollow?

And of my Stories;

Do they no longer inspire?

I will continue to Dream, to Sing.

I will continue to tell my Stories until they are heard;

And the Truth is finally realized.

For I can do no less,

Than what has already been done for me.

1 Corinthians 3:6(KJV) I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.