Post by Tin Man on Aug 22, 2005 10:37:34 GMT -5
In a field of many flowers, there was one that attracted my attention. It wasn't an overly large flower, nor was it very tall. It didn't have any bright colors or special shape. It didn't quite have the finesse of the rose, and it lacked the elegance of a carnation, yet this particular flower was of such amazing beauty that I instantly decided I must have it for my own.
I started into the field, and noticed that there were other men there, and they were heading for the same flower as I. A more powerful man than I was there, more able to push the grass aside. Also there was a man more fleet of foot than I, and able to move towards the flower quicker. The fleet-footed man arrived at the flower first, but after observing the flower up close for a while, moved on to another flower. Next to reach the flower was the strong man, but his hands were too full of other flowers already. He was clumsy, and ended up damaging the flower I had set my sights on.
When at last I arrived, the flower seemed wilted and bent from misuse. I attempted to pick it, but it shied away from my approach, as though afraid of being hurt again. I assured it that I would not harm it, and gently took it into my hands. It was a very soft flower, yet strong, and it's petals were like silk. As I held it, it smiled at me, a smile full of understanding, and full of love. It was a smile that knew I truly cared for it, and would never harm it.
I planted it, the lone flower in my garden, and it grew even beautiful from love; my love, respect for itself, and the love of God, who created it. When it rained, I joined my flower in the storm. My flower talked to me, and I to it. It told me of the weeds and insects in the garden; I told it of my worries as well, and together with God we got through the hard times.
Still my flower grew, until one day I found my flower was gone. In it's place was a woman of amazing beauty and grace. I began to ask where my flower had gone to when she put a finger to her lips for silence. Then she smiled, and in her smile I saw my flower.
I started into the field, and noticed that there were other men there, and they were heading for the same flower as I. A more powerful man than I was there, more able to push the grass aside. Also there was a man more fleet of foot than I, and able to move towards the flower quicker. The fleet-footed man arrived at the flower first, but after observing the flower up close for a while, moved on to another flower. Next to reach the flower was the strong man, but his hands were too full of other flowers already. He was clumsy, and ended up damaging the flower I had set my sights on.
When at last I arrived, the flower seemed wilted and bent from misuse. I attempted to pick it, but it shied away from my approach, as though afraid of being hurt again. I assured it that I would not harm it, and gently took it into my hands. It was a very soft flower, yet strong, and it's petals were like silk. As I held it, it smiled at me, a smile full of understanding, and full of love. It was a smile that knew I truly cared for it, and would never harm it.
I planted it, the lone flower in my garden, and it grew even beautiful from love; my love, respect for itself, and the love of God, who created it. When it rained, I joined my flower in the storm. My flower talked to me, and I to it. It told me of the weeds and insects in the garden; I told it of my worries as well, and together with God we got through the hard times.
Still my flower grew, until one day I found my flower was gone. In it's place was a woman of amazing beauty and grace. I began to ask where my flower had gone to when she put a finger to her lips for silence. Then she smiled, and in her smile I saw my flower.