Why don’t you come to Me when you recall your troubles?
Don’t you remember that these are mere fragile bubbles
Which I pierce with the tip of the sword of My Sacrifice
Nothing more needed or used on the troublesome twice?
Look at the October leaves you see from your room
Scarlet some leaves on the tree, they fall this autumn—
So will your memories fall from the spirit’s tree
Only so long will I let these injuries be
Then from the bare branch in Spring will the foliage grow
Leaves are the memories that in your soul you know
Give shape to the tree of your spirit, roots in the ground
Of joy with its memories new and their color profound
So come to Me soul, I am both the gardener, garden
Season of Earth and perpetual wonder of Heaven