The Garden.

I gardened that day Like i used to Quietly The urban walls broken and decayed Like an abbey ruin And I Monk like With the birds and the silence And the water pouring from can In direct connection To that dusted, dirty mud A drinking plant I found myself sinking from head to heart And the ground held me In it's local magic. At the ponds edge A young man Pulled his shorts His scars exposed And he carefully found a vein. And i thought it strange but also no surprise In our own ways We're trying to find our way back To heaven