Treasury of a Day

When I woke I did not know what my day would hold

Whether of sharp lilies I would be bound by restraint

Or of rifled hues I would be set free to find beauty

I do not know the measure of each day’s treasury            

Nor the gems that make for my happiness when I wake

Thistles come and I make of them an unwanted thing

Fierce edged things that turn painful curves inside

Not thinking that their piercing points were good for me

Or that their painted counterparts were for mirrors inside

And of a perfect balance to equalize my unknown parts 

That through my unarmoured heart, seeds would sprout

Seeds of peace, to see in shards of lilies no restraining thing

But of topaz, amber and emerald walk on clouds of shine

Uncovering things beneath these pained flowering points

That rise each day for my further watering or suppressing

Waiting quite harmless till I either feed or reject them

Tall candles smooth or dripping in mixtures of my making

Wavering light, either still, or flickering in difficulty

The choice was mine whether to wake in hope or doubt

To take to heart treasure in what I don’t understand

   

As a garden has more than one kind of weed in it

So has a day

As some flowers have a scent and some don’t

So has a day

A day’s treasury may be made of a garden of hassles

And yet be fragrant with beds of heart’s ease  

If I am confused as to which is which

Some of the world’s nicest flowers have been

Considered weeds

And the heaviest scents full of surprises

Of elfin proportions the weight of every sigh

And all my trials are gifted garden trails

In my day’s treasury