God allows some nettles among our flowers,
And as we encounter these days of frown.
From the far horizon, a confluence of showers,
To retain life's garden from remaining brown.
Periodically we see our vitality shattered,
As eternal sleep beckons those we love.
We clutch God's hand as days are tattered,
Thistles fixate vision on the throne above.
As we yank at nettles...
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