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Where are all the joys of yesterday?
Where, now, is the happiness and laughter that we shared?
Gone, like our childhood dreams, aspirations and beliefs --
Time is a thief, and he ravages our gardens,
stripping saplings, felling trees,
trampling on our flowers, sucking sap and drying seeds.
In the midnight candle-light of experience
all colour fades, green fingers grey....
Time, alone, shall murder all the flowers,
still, there`s time to share our plots and all that we call `ours`.
How much worse, then, if we all deny each others` needs
and keep our garden`s privately?
Its getting colder, wind and rain leave gashes;
looking back, I only see the friends I`ve lost.
Fires smoulder, raking through the ashes
my hands are dirty, my mind is numb,
I count the cost of `I` :
"I need to get on, I`ve got to tend my garden;
got to shut you out, no time to crave your pardon now".
Now I see the garden that I`ve grown is just the same
as those outside;
the fences, erected to protect, simply divide....
There`s ruination everywhere, the weather has
played havoc with the grass --
does anyone believe his garden`s really going to last?
In the time allotted us, can any man keep miserly his own?
Is there any pleasure in a solitary growth?
Come and see my garden if you will ----
I`d like someone to see it all before each root is killed.
Surely now its time to open up each life to all ----
tear down the walls, if its not too late!
There is so much sorrow in the world;
there is so much emptiness and heartbreak and pain;
Somewhere on the road we have all taken a wrong
turn ----
how can we build the right path again?
Through the grief, through the pain,
our flowers need each others` rain....

Where are all the joys of yesterday?
Where, now, is the happiness and laughter that we shared?
Gone, like our childhood dreams, aspirations and beliefs --
Time is a thief, and he ravages our gardens,
stripping saplings, felling trees,
trampling on our flowers, sucking sap and drying seeds.
In the midnight candle-light of experience
all colour fades, green fingers grey....
Time, alone, shall murder all the flowers,
still, there`s time to share our plots and all that we call `ours`.
How much worse, then, if we all deny each others` needs
and keep our garden`s privately?
Its getting colder, wind and rain leave gashes;
looking back, I only see the friends I`ve lost.
Fires smoulder, raking through the ashes
my hands are dirty, my mind is numb,
I count the cost of `I` :
"I need to get on, I`ve got to tend my garden;
got to shut you out, no time to crave your pardon now".
Now I see the garden that I`ve grown is just the same
as those outside;
the fences, erected to protect, simply divide....
There`s ruination everywhere, the weather has
played havoc with the grass --
does anyone believe his garden`s really going to last?
In the time allotted us, can any man keep miserly his own?
Is there any pleasure in a solitary growth?
Come and see my garden if you will ----
I`d like someone to see it all before each root is killed.
Surely now its time to open up each life to all ----
tear down the walls, if its not too late!
There is so much sorrow in the world;
there is so much emptiness and heartbreak and pain;
Somewhere on the road we have all taken a wrong
turn ----
how can we build the right path again?
Through the grief, through the pain,
our flowers need each others` rain....

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