He'd plant within the garden of the heart
E'en what, of spirit, constitutes the Seed:
What's threatened by the thistle or the weed;
What, if engrafted, proves, of us, a part.
'Tis in the DNA, e'en that of art
For which a man, bereft of hope would plead
Should he but sense the nature of his need,
Or, asking wisdom, prove, aft granted, smart.
If planted properly, 'twould surely grow:
'Twould prove integral, hence 'twould integrate
What, if made whole, would cause the soul to know.
Ah, it would prove the nemesis of fate,
E'en what (in cheering) grants the face its glow
E'en as pure Love supplants that ogre, hate