The Grand Garden

Uncertain's picture

The Grand Garden
25/02/07

I open my eyes
It seems like it was still a dream
But no longer does it matter
What they say true remains truth
No longer does doves symbolise peace
Those vultures scavenge among wingless angels

When did ‘it' start feeling alone?
They say it was always like this
Maybe we ought to believe
But when children diseased
Men cannot speak
And stomachs complain upon entire emptiness
Perhaps nature never intended this order of things?

I act like this was all a coincidence
Like feathers that brush past withering leaves
The unmerciful wind swims through them
Perhaps when those trees are stripped nakedly bare
The wind will hear its own sigh of solitude

I send that thought faraway
Those butterflies fan above the future
Wait
And draw open those wing-like curtains
Let the light shine through
And hear those seas of sorrows from within

Yet I never do
I wonder what’s behind those curtains
But I’ve been blinded
In this age of isolation
Sightlessly trying to see that blossom
Faintly reminded by that fragrant smell

Planting in the centre our very own tree
Snakes slowly slither on scorched sand
Golden apples borne on such foliage
They eat up the earth with their revolting roots
We have merely planted what we hence bear

I stop scrawling in dirt as I reach the name
I turn my head yet mind so clear
Like reflections in pure peaceful water
Yet no way to grasp
Those words
Give me freedom
The freedom that trees extend towards sun
And flourish under water
That is the light
To shine upon my only depression
Revealing it with a silent sob from our stray soul
Dyeing it with serenity

If evil is that beautifully brutal harmony in music
And love like that of thorns on God-crafted roses
I will write the ending
In this world where petals fall on stained soil
This palace of prickling booming barbs
Blood stained armour
Washed away by tears
Whose garden may it be?

---Uncertain

Comments

raining men's picture

Nice very nice

Now this I really like. Love it.
Just change "the wind will hear its own sigh of solitiude" - the sighing wind is used far too often. Other than that...hell I can't think of anything

"Sexual intercourse began in nineteen sixty-three (which was rather too late for me)"