
The Word
The Word That’s nearly impossible to misspell: God
A meditation on emotional economy—arguing that the true currency of life is not time or money but the love we choose to nurture, and that what we invest our care in ultimately shapes the soul we become.
Plahm constructs a philosophical equation in verse, contrasting two emotional investments: hate, which “evaporates” like mist, and love, which “grows roots” and binds us in memory. The poem’s structural symmetry—matching stanzas for waste and worth—reinforces its argument that our choices are the real economy. The pivot from abstract principle (“Choose with care”) to embodied metaphor (“Growing a garden / Of moments / Blooming in memory”) grounds philosophy in sensory experience. The third movement personalizes the universal: the beloved’s smile becomes “A strike of lightning / To my soul,” transforming the poem from wisdom literature into love letter. The closing haiku—”I / Have an investment / A / Garden I long to see / Bloom”—crystallizes the entire piece into five lines of patient devotion. What elevates this beyond greeting-card sentiment is Plahm’s insistence that love is not passive feeling but active cultivation, something requiring the same deliberate attention as tending a garden.
A structurally elegant poem that earns its wisdom through careful construction rather than mere declaration. The symmetrical opening—hate as mist versus love as roots—is both memorable and philosophically sound, giving readers a framework they can carry beyond the page. The garden metaphor develops naturally across the piece, from “moments blooming in memory” to the soul “in bloom” to the closing haiku’s investment awaiting its flowering. The transition from universal counsel to personal devotion (“A strike of lightning / To my soul / My Muse”) adds emotional specificity that prevents the poem from feeling like a motivational poster. The closing haiku is particularly effective, compressing the entire argument into an image of patient hope. Minor weakness: the repeated “Choose” directives occasionally feel prescriptive rather than inviting, and the line “As if love is the measure of time” verges on cliché. But the overall architecture is sound, and the poem’s central insight—that love is active investment, not passive sentiment—gives it lasting resonance.
All that we hate
evaporates—
A waste
Of time
Of effort
Of emotion
Like mist,
Dispersing in the dawn
All that we love
grows roots—
Is worthy
Of time
Of effort
Of emotion
Continuing
Love binding us
In memory
Choose
with care—
How to spend your time
Wisely.
All that we cherish
takes hold—
Growing a garden
Of moments
Blooming in memory
So choose, again—
What you nurture
What you love …
Shapes your soul
Into
Who you are—
A radiant and beautiful
Soul in bloom
With a smile—
A strike of lightning
To my soul
My Muse.
After many seasons of living and learning …
The true economy of life
Is not
Measured in days or dollars
But in the love we nurture
And tend with our heart
Choose …
As if love is the measure of time
Some personal reflections on simple observation & wisdom.
I
Have an investment
A
Garden I long to see
Bloom



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