I brought a little plant in my hands and,
gently I told it of its new home.
In silence, the little plant spoke to me,
cheerful and patient,
with a complete calmness.
I dressed it in a white, large, flowery vase,
made of river water, fire and clay.
It quenched its thirst with water and light
and gently extended its branches in the air.
It sat calmly in the corner,
it didn’t matter about the time of day
whether it was sunny, snowing or raining.
For anyone who approached it,
the plant listened attentively
with kindness and affection,
and it illuminated, without judgement,
whatever it received from them,
helping all to know their own selves
along the way.
Appearing still, yet always in motion,
with a rhythm only nature knows.
As the plant grew higher
to breathe thinner and more pure air,
it reached deeper into the moisture of mother-earth
weaving its roots to touch minerals and living beings.
In winter the little plant didn’t fight the cold,
it enjoyed the blue sky and the white mountains.
In the spring it was dazzling,
adorned with beautiful rainbow flowers,
exhaling a sweet fragrance.
It absorbed the summer sun and, in its green canopy,
it refreshed the tiredness of all who passed by.
In the fall, it dressed in gold and red.
Its ripened fruit coloring the earth
releasing its tiny seeds,
sprouting strongly wherever they fell.
The little plant was never born or died.
It lives in secret in our hearts.
It just needs what is necessary,
neither excess, nor lack of anything.
We are like the light of this little plant
and, united, we are a garden
that blooms in our hearts.
In this way as we take step by step,
brotherhood springs up on the way,
leading to the only source of love and water
to transform everyone, transforming the whole of humanity.
