The mind, a garden, wild and deep
where thoughts like seedlings softly sleep.
Some bloom to beauty bright and bold,
while others wither, stories untold.
A fertile ground where seeds are sown,
of joy and sorrow, all well-known.
The weeds of doubt, they twist and climb,
choking the flowers of precious time.
But with a mindful hand, we tend
and cultivate, until the end.
We pull the weed of fear and strife,
and nature, hope, and peaceful life.
The gardener’s art, a patient grace,
to shape the garden, finds its place.
A set of mind, a conscious choice,
to listen to the inner voice.
So let your garden bloom anew,
with vibrant thoughts, both strong and true.
A peaceful space, a tranquil scene,
a set of mind that is my peace.