We must tend our gardens well
as we stand at the gates of hell.
The weeds take hold quickly.
Their roots digging deeper and deeper.
Spreading and infesting,
poisoning our souls,
blinding our eyes.
Turning our hearts cold.
Opening our mouths to pollinate
it's hate.
We must tend our gardens well
as we stand at the gates of hell.
Rip out the weeds.
Plow the fields.
Plant the seeds
of peace and unity.
Always know,
we reap what we sow.
About the Creator
A.C. Zempleni
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