Garden of Love

I’ve pulled myself back down to earth. 
With the understanding that my love, 
especially how I love, 
how I wish to be loved,
is the way we will break open new gardens. 

I transmute all energy around me.

You, 
the angry wasp buzzing around,
I turn you into a fig.
One I will cut up with honey and Brie and give as an offering.
You,
who lurks and spies,
I turn you into a butterfly.
May you someday find other Monarchs so that that sadness and anger you carry can be given to the clouds and you can finally soar in the sky.

I transmute you,
false gardeners,
false friends.
I turn you into manure, compost,
my garden will bloom again.