The Garden

Welcome to a garden.
A place profound in silence.
Do you want a tour?
As my inner workings are interesting.
The message you seek is in your eyes.
As you peek out into this world.
Retina ID I have you in my sights.
I will guide you through here,
As you find your place.
This isn’t your typical greenhouse.
It’s ever-changing and beautiful.
Wrapping vines around oak trees.
As tall as the mind can see.
On the vines are blooms of color.
Shades of failure and buds of triumph.
If you could count the attempts a man tries to resist the world.
You would have the number of floral.
Including days I’ve spent alive;
The strength of each sprouting stem –
Stronger than the universe – as proof they are their.
Brittle as sheets of ice – you can crack and burn them if allowed entrance.
But most aren’t.
The garden is a place where Madness,
Madness and Tranquility share a home.
Inquiry and being stagnant,
They all are here as it grows.
No fortification or defense,
The sheer beauty keeps you at bay.
Unknown the ramifications,
Upon touching the smallest molecule.
The  of insanity,
Simple humanity yet most seem afraid.
The threat of the unknown,
Its alien and mysterious.
When you go to react to it,
The garden adapts and your left feeling clueless.
Somehow you’ll feel attacked,
The garden has morphed into your image.
As you stroll through the mazes,
You’ll find shrines along your passage.
Some are covered in thorn and flower,
Others are glowing;
Yet some are hidden.
What grand architect can make such a
Bending illusion.
“Catching lightning” is the best I can compare it.
Such a place full of failing power.
The garden has two signs posted.
“Do take caution” – as you enter.
Somewhere in the center,
A mirror finds you glancing.
Seeing is restraining.
You see you are a symbol.
The second sign I’m entertaining.
Peer around the corner,
It’s never-ending,
I must show you the exit.
For I fear you have lingered too long now.
Any deeper and I’d have to show you.
All the maintenance I put in here.
all the smoke screens I’m hiding.
All the dying leaves that are falling.
All the whispering winds and darkness.
Not a soul will want to walk towards.
The place is wild and has its division.
Just as the world in which we live in.
I do believe they are one of the same;
I hope your stay here was pleasant.
It’s as if you never left it.

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