Prologue

"If you don't do something everyday that leads you closer to your dreams, you're not dreaming, you're simply wishing."

Simply said, I've finally realized that we create doors to our dreams. This is that. I no longer want to believe that there is any possibility left for me to escape the reality of this dream. I want to be an instrument of change, of peace, and of hope by simply taking care of the things I love the most. One of this is my love for writing -- for words, for ideas, for Truth.

As a fragile flower fears the strong winds of a raging storm and losing the light of the sun, I, too, fear that I may be inadequate to answer to the adventures calling out my name in this short life I'm living at the cost of losing the light of the Son. I fear that I may still be fragile. I fear.

Thus, the Secret Garden manifests itself as a place to perfectly represent the heart beating inside of me and the mind transcending everything of this world. As I become seed scattered and sown, I bittersweetly acknowledge my extreme neediness for both rain and shine, patience for the time it will take for me to blossom, the understanding that I need virtually everything around me to grow and help others grow, and most especially, my need for the perfect Gardener.

Regardless of its fears, a fragile flower radiates more beauty never to deceive the world of its vulnerability, fragile condition, but always to prove that its beauty comes not from itself, but rather from the life-giving light of the Sun and all those who simply make taking care of her a part of them.