The Box

I hear a faint whisper 
My eyes open wide 
The Gardener is beckoning 
I rise to approach His side 

Today is the day 
I'm shown my place 
Among the splendid beauty 
Perfected by His grace 

He shows me a box 
And says this is yours 
He tenderly guides me in 
Over my being the soil He pours 

It's disgusting what surrounds 
No light can I see 
I cry out Sir! 
What's in it for me? 

The darkness overwhelms 
And I'm full of fright 
The Gardener grasps my hand 
And commands, Hold on tight 

Torrents of water 
All around me rush down 
My feeble mind weakening 
Inside this box I may drown 

I cling tighter to the Hand 
Knowing I can trust His plan 
A little while more 
And I glimpse a door 

Sunlight has grazed my crown 
I'm rising above the blackened mire 
The Gardener lifts me from the box 
He plants me in the place known as my heart's desire 

As I sputter the filthy remains 
My face breaks free 
Gardener, why the tiny space I ask 
Little Bloom, you needed to depend fully on me 

Too much room and weeds would crowd 
Waves of sorrow and doubt would prevail 
Out in a garden so big 
Without My boundaries you would fail 

Because of My care 
The roots hold fast 
You no longer need your box 
I have planted a seed that will last