I Am The Holy Basil

I am a holy basil in the garden.

In my scent, the Roses, Jasmines, and Hyacinths.

In the taste of me, the sweetness of the mango,

The bitterness of the grapefruit.

In my green-ness, the colorful array of flowers,

In my name is the secret: the Holiness of the King.

I am a holy basil in the garden,

Unique, only, and other,

I am that which the garden expresses as I,

I am what I am as a color is from light.

In the same soil, the rose and I are nurtured,

I and the cherry blossom, watered by the same stream,

I and the fruits breathe the same air,

And all of us gardened by the same Hand.

What makes the Gardener different than the Garden?

The same as what makes me different from the rose.

What makes the reflected different than the reflection?

The same as that which makes the Garden alone.

I am the holy basil, an expression of the Garden filtered through,

In me, is found the Garden whole, as in my lover the Rose.

I have been picked up last night, but why?

Who was the one in desire?

Me the Rose, or Him the Gardener?