We never actually
moved out of Eden,
that flaming angel
and fiery sword
are only for those
whose eyes are blind
and ears closed.

The blindness that cannot see,
flowers by the path
growing through rubble,
ears that cannot hear
birds still singing,
although the tree
seems barren.

Every day a miracle
of sun rising
and setting,
and love waiting
to meet us
at every corner
of the road.

Somewhere a Tui singing…