Where is the Garden?

A dream of Yitzhak, son of David, son of Gershon, son of Kos ha Levi. A dream of a time of peace and joy. All by one another did as was right. The kingdom of heaven was on Earth established. I walked among the saintly On paths of soft earth Among gentle meadows of flowers Along flowing rivers of cool water Below mountains of glorious majesty. I asked how this time came In which man and woman, young and old, Beast, fish, and all that is of God, Came gently to love one another And so return to the Garden of Eden. Thus did they instruct me: The Garden has ever been there for all who would but see and dwell within. The Lord did not drive you therefrom. You blinded your own eyes to beauty and perfection. You stopped up your ears to joyous song. All you and yours wished to see was corruption and decay, Hear only raucous complaint, Dwell only upon sin and error. Those who love shall ever be loved. Those who give shall receive a hundred-fold. Those who sing shall ever hear song. Those who build will dwell forever among beauty. Nay, I said, this cannot be, For pain and suffering in the world did abound, Grievous harm did the righteous befall, Piety availed us nothing, and We all did pass to dust and corruption. Where was the Garden, where was it to be found? Child, oh child, they chided, Who looks only down to see the dust at his feet, Look up, look up, and see the glorious sky, Look around, look about, and see the flowers in bloom. There is no joy without pain, No waking without sleep, No life without birth, No life without death. All is a cycle that forever doth turn. Yet we proclaim Life and joy and beauty eternal are yours If you would but grasp them For the least moment of perfect joy Sustains us through whatever trials may come. The most fleeting moment of life well lived Is an eternity of bliss After which death is not to be feared. One note of joyous song sweetly sung Echoes through eternity In the hearts, minds and voices of those who have heard. Build, not that your own edifice may stand In cold memorial to you. Build that the essence of what you build May echo as that note In that which future generations may build. That which you build will then be eternal Beyond the life given to the mountains. Yet did I protest, this cannot be. Mighty works did we build, Damming the waters of the world, Making paths for commerce through the highest mountains, Joining scores of multitudes of our brethren in common tasks. Yet life was empty and death to be feared. All that we built was of no account. It was soon destroyed, Replaced by works of greater futility. Where was the Garden, where was it to be found? Child, oh child, they cried with compassion. You knew neither why to build nor how. Look to your left and look to your right And see what is plain to be seen. That which is build for love and with love does endure. All else does perish. Look to the father carving a toy of wood for his son, As his father did before him, As did his father’s father, And all the generations before. Look to the mother making a feast In celebration of her daughter’s wedding, As her mother did make when she was a bride, And her mother’s mother, And all the generations before. Look to the bridegroom raising the walls of the bridal chamber He will share in joy with his bride, Working with his father and friends, As his father worked with his father and Generations of friends before. Look at the daughter sewing the gown for her wedding With lace from the gown of her mother. The toy will not be here a thousand years hence, Nor the feast, Nor the bedroom, Nor the gown. Yet all will endure in toys and feasts and bridal chambers and gowns Made anew by generations yet to come, Preserved forever by the love and passion Of those generations yet to come. Works built alone, or for our own glory Are sterile and die, But works built with love and for love Do endure and never will die. Something disturbed me and ended the dream But even on waking my feet felt that soft earth, My ears heard those streams, And through the dark murmurs of deepening night, The glory they spoke of remained in my sight.