The young man returns from the forest.
Clothes stained, and covered with sharp thorns.
Facing the King, he falls to the ground.
"Forgive me," for I have returned empty-handed.
"Rise up and enter the sacred garden," smiles the Wise One.
On those muddy boots and torn vestments lie seeds of sweet fruit.
Waiting only for your tears to release their gifts,
Held tight for so many years!
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