Please See Previous Post, Part I, for Context. Thanks!

But time did not give up on the southern wing,
Even though the gardener dreamed of killing it off.
Intuiting doom, the wing doubled-down the next winter, 
and came out exploding in robust leaves and blooms
having learned in the past season that it has to work twice as hard,
and be twice as good to match the northern wing that bloomed
according to schedule, producing normal sweet strawberries.

When harvest-time came in the second year, 
the southern wing offered such strawberries 
almost impossible to dream of on planet Earth.
In one season it learned: though the talent to turn the elements 
into sweetness is universal to all strawberry seeds,
the opportunity to do so is not.

The gardener would remember that and exclaim:
Of course, there is sentience on Earth, 
there is holiness here.
The animism that grows heavenly strawberries,
also spins galaxies and our sun, which twirls its planets, 
one of which has these juicy ruby jewels—strawberries.

So, when the bitter reality of human life
cramps the gardener’s mind, 
the gardener remembers that southern butterfly wing,
which, by human hands, was laid where it
worked twice as hard as the northern wing.
The gardener sees the folly of the silver spoon
offered the northern wing, an entitlement 
made to look like nature’s hand denying others
full lives and livelihoods.

The gardener has a chant now: 
Remember that butterfly wing cradling 
a Civilization of Strawberries that refused to die 
without leaving its mark on a gardener’s mind.
The sentience of garden variety strawberries,
as awesome as a churning galaxy.

The gardener chants louder: 
If a strawberry bed laid next to a shadow-casting wall
can defy the odds and leave memories of first creation,
then you, too, my friend, surely, can find a way 
around the barriers that stand between you and your dreams.

Why are you here, on this holy land, Earth?
Why is your tongue exploding at the touch 
of that ruby-red strawberry, a sublime creature 
of spinning Sun and Earth?