There is a garden
We are in it and of it
That garden is our essence
It is pure and innocent
All is well there
And harmony is its abiding state

Yet we had a thought of self
Imagination caught that thought
And separated itself
From all that is
In a fraction of a second
A divided world arose
A world of me against you
Us against them
A world of opposition
The world of duality
Which is, in truth, a servant of the divine
Become tyrannical ruler and autocrat

But the world of self
Was only ever an imagined one
A dream we believe is real

How do we get back to that garden?
By realizing that we never left it.

Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay