The Gardener

In the darkness did I sleep,
safe without a light;
a sudden movement from above,
a sudden burst of bright.

From my cradle I was plucked,
into a world of wrong;
Yet in my home of soft brown earth,
I heard the master's song:

"Dig the soil and sow the seeds,
water the plants, pull the weeds."

So he hummed both night and day,
toiling, working, on and on
Nothing else did he say,
but the magic of his song:

"Dig the soil and sow the seeds,
water the plants, pull the weeds."

Air to breath, water to drink,
roots to grow, leaves to think;
Earth to nourish, sun to reach
All this my master did he teach:

"Dig the soil and sow the seeds,
water the plants, pull the weeds."

Two men came, their shadows black,
walking along the beaten track,
wondering where we first came from
and so they argued, on and on:

Chance they said, who gave us life,
Chance who aided us in our strife,
Chance they said, who taught us all-
Chance who grew us both proud and tall.

And then they left, I know not where;
but this I know - I did not care
for beauty and form, for chance and such.
All I know be my master's touch;

Who dug the soil and sowed the seeds,
Watered the plants, pulled the weeds.