A garden is thy soul, a place to till, where earth receives its seed and waits for falling rain. A mansion is thy soul, a space to build, where rooms be filled with crystal gems and the king takes His throne.
A river raging is thy soul, where flows living waters, pristine, sourced above from Zion’s heights. A downward flow, constant, giving life, going lower, far below in lowly places still. Deeper still; from within thy rivers flow, restoring the soul; flooding desert plains, making parched ground a garden— proclaiming prophesies of Eden.