Our love is like seedling, Immature but alive. It hasn’t stopped us from feeling, What has been purposed by the Divine. We are in a precarious state, The Master Gardner keeping us alive. He knows our fate, That we can survive. But the choice is still yours, Whether we will mature, If our seeds or other spores, Will produce lives that endure. In the natural, I see our tomb. In the Spirit, I see us in full bloom.