The vines grew tall against the wall.
Some slithered and they hissed.
Their shifting forms like camouflage
Were hidden in their midst.
One vine crawled out and slunk about;
He shimmered and he glowed.
With rhetoric and crafty tongue
He subtly did goad.
"Beyond this gate, wonders await!"
He wheedled and he whined.
"Your Master offers you half-truths
To keep you from this find."
"His garden fair is but a lair,"
He taunted and he lied.
"The god you serve deceives you still.
You shall not surely die.
The vines entwined as if to bind
They wove and twisted round
They left the wall and stretched themselves
From tree branch to the ground.
They multiplied as each plant died.
And gradually filled each space.
Until the garden, once so fair,
Was but a wasted place.
And then one night a humble birth
Filled up the air with praise.
As up in heaven, The Gardner spoke,
"The garden curse is raised."
False vines turned brown and tumbled down.
The vine in charge did scurry.
The Gardner's Son raised up his foot
And stomped the vine in fury.
So careful be of what you see.
For evil in disguise
Can cloak itself with subtleness
And even fool the wise.
The vines may grow and round you go.
But should one not be true;
You'll need the Master Gardner's help
To tend and protect you.
So vigilant be of vine or tree
Of imposter's growing tall.
Keep one eye on your garden-heart
And the other on the wall.
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