These weeds always nearSomehow sprout up
Never planted, but always there;
Diligence reaches out
Perseverance pulls them out by the roots
Endurance tosses them onto the trash pile
New strength burns them with “Holy Fire”:
Weeds as dark, pesky spirit flies
Or gnats that seek to ruin
Spoil at any picnic,
Like deer flies that annoy at the lake!
The garden is finally cleansed,
Daily the garden is watched over
Alert eyes and quickened hands,
Nothing impure is sprinkled about or sprayed,
And the garden is kept truly clean!
Only what really belongs is left
What does not belong is tossed out
And remains far outside,
Gone from what the heart of the true gardener embraces.