Hold On


The plushest Gardens like the one of Eden
Are grown from the most grotesque of fertilizers
The powers of Earth are in God’s generous hands
Gathering up memories
Only to release them for those tomorrows
Up shit creek
Without a paddle
Go on with the smelly flows
But ignore the negative gases
To call out to God
In times of real trouble
He’ll bring out a clearing
A bank off into the distance
A garden from this river of shit
Keep going and the eyes can easily spot it
Problems are worthless
Without finding the solutions
In tough waters, God says
“Come on, my Beautiful Child, You can handle this”

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