He said, “It is finished,” and a miracle bud formed,
Blossoming into our holy garden.

It blooms within the belly-laughs of children,

Dancing among the shadows,

And finds its way over the fences we’ve built.

It curls through our fingers
And in the way He made us to create.

There is beauty here

  Here

And here 

in this magnificent garden.

Keep your eyes on The Son,

And you will smell its perfume forever.