O Love, that wilt not let me go.
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life i owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

- Geroge Matheson



Joy be to the one who'd found what was lost.
Joy be to the one who'd believed.

All's not lost, but found.
With it, an ugly SLIMEY snail.

Yuck man.

Nauseated, and hands full,
the disgusted sought a helping hand.
Gentle hands do not go with heinous creatures,
Back to the bitter, miry soil it went!


Outside the window sill where it once was,
Greet the morning beams of light it shall.

I'll watch and wait everyday,
Till at last, it blossoms into a bright,
pinkish hue.