If I both need and want you
It may be best to try both less,
Diamonds are made by pressure, yes,
But organic matter needs space to grow,
And growth has more worth than diamonds
For diamonds are the sum of extreme anti-growth,
A possession by a mountainous bully,
An excavation by a greed monger,
A testament to nothing except just one element of wonder,
That pressure creates something harder than a rock.
But have you ever seen a diamond without the craft
Of a hand that is organic?
The growth behind the hand, the growth of that hand's art
The growth of that hand's patience
The growth of that hand's understanding
All come to focus on the surface of the diamond
To polish and shape and create something new and valuable.
It is not the diamond that matters
It is the hand that made it worth wearing
And the hand that gives it to someone worth giving
And the hand that receives it and wears it true.
But to earn all this there must first be growth.
Growth of love and trust and patience and dedication.
Growth of spirit and mind and body
Growth of awareness of Soul.
I have seen two trees planted four feet apart.
They grew to a height of ten feet,
And then something dictated that they must grow apart,
Perhaps a drought
or perhaps their palms were overstimulated and they took each other's light.
So they bowed outward from one another, so both could florish,
Not flourish, so both could merely survive,
And they did this for another three feet,
Perhaps because in their growth they became more aware of the Soul,
More aware that they were each other's mates,
More aware that for no reason should they ever be parted,
More aware of the difference between survival and flourishing,
These two trees grew back to within four feet of one another,
And continued to grow for another ten feet,
Flourishing all the way.
I have never seen a diamond grow that way.
Perhaps if I could live long enough, I might see a mountain grow that way,
But I don't think so.
I know a river grows that way in somewhat of a way, winding back and forth,
And I know hands are always growing that way,
Coming in close to hold
Leaving for a short time
And yearning to be close again holding
I wish there were a better way than to want and need less
But we're all only a mortal entity
And we all only have so much time to transpire
And so we are prone to boughts of survival fits
We are prone to focus on shortages from time to time
We are prone to lose sight of our Soul and our Mate,
And sadly, we are prone to suffer for the loss of these two sights,
Sadly, it is only when the sight of our mate reaches the zenith of the horizon
And becomes silohuette, becomes only memory, becomes the well of regret,
Becomes the spring of remorse, becomes the tears of shame,
Becomes utter and undying loss
Becomes the worst that could ever happen or be conceived to happen,
Sadly, only then, and with all the pain such a then can muster,
Sadly, only then are we shaken to awake
Shaken to reverse
Shaken to recall and cling on and hold on and fight to regain
Shaken to give up everything for just one more moment
And so hopeful that it is not too late.
Why? Because that is the way it works.
The lesson that Soul Mates teach to one another.