Born to a Garden

I was born to a garden.  It was lush, wild, and held everything I needed.
You only gave me one rule, which I broke immediately.  And although I was invited to leave,
you still drove a path for me.

I grew and grew, and made my own rules.  After some time, you told me you were unhappy.
Not just with me, but also unhappy with yourself for ever putting me in the garden to begin with.
You said you were going to start over, but said your new plan still included me.  There was a boat,
and still you drove a path for me.

We started over, I got rich.  I had animals, money, children, once again, everything I needed.
One day I was attacked.  It was all gone in a moment.
My friends told me I had done something wrong, I assured them I hadn't.
I demanded that you show yourself, and you did.  I was humbled instantly, but still you showed me,
there was a path.

You brought me to the most powerful man in the world, and I impressed him.
He gave me a job, and I made him richer than he ever was before.
I too, grew and grew, until it frightened him.  He changed the rules, and put me in chains.
And suddenly the path was gone.
Then one day, in a fire, you showed me it was still there.

We left the oppression together, I saw we were in a dessert and you said you'd protect me
but I was afraid, and begged to go back.
Finally I saw the place you had in mind, for me to live and grow and thrive.
I prepared the place, though not how you wanted.  And began to live.

I followed you, left you, came back, argued with you, swore at you, left again.
I said I'd walk with you, I said I'd take your path, then I walked everywhere else. 
You told me that you would stop telling me how to do things, and instead come and show me.

You came to me in a way I didn't expect, so I thought that maybe it wasn't really you.
Then you healed me, you told me to walk with you again, you pulled me from water when I was drowning.
You game me food, told me stories, and said there were things you had to do, but I never really understood.
I asked you about the path, and you said there was a path, but that it wasn't for me.

I asked what you meant, and you said there was a path I couldn't walk with you.
I got nervous, and said I didn't know you.  I said I'd rather have a criminal than you, and then I ran.
I yelled at you, mocked you, beat you, telling you to over and over to escape, if you really could.

And then you were gone.

I laid low.  There wasn't much to do, just wonder if your grand experiment had failed.
Finally I went to see you, but you were gone.  I told people, who didn't believe me, and went to see.
Then you were walking right next me, and I didn't even know it was you.
You told me your path was now complete, but the story wasn't over.

The path that you walked I should now show others.

And they'll be afraid, just like I was with you.
And they'll swear and leave me, just like I did with you.
And they'll come with me, then leave me, then come back, and leave again, just like I did with you.

And I'll have to show them, not just tell them, just like you did with me.