The Garden and the God of Loneliness

Beneath the green and leafy sheltered arch,
A place is found of solitude and peace
And yet the living glade is dry and parched
For it cannot contain what will not cease: Read more
Beneath the green and leafy sheltered arch,
A place is found of solitude and peace
And yet the living glade is dry and parched
For it cannot contain what will not cease: Read more
Behold, behold:
They sway,
They fill the fragrant air
With waving signs of life.
The breeze between the palm tips flits
And finds a world in flux Read more
The motion greets me first,
A rhythmic rushing sound
As I approach the edge,
Feet planted on the ground
Around a blazing fire
So spouting warmth and cheer,
With sparks to be admired
By all who gather near,
I am not often thinking of death.
And yet it too is there
Beneath the flame’s great might
The flecks of ash in air
Are dancing in the light
To live and die thus intertwined.
So much beauty
I’d like to gather in my hands
In great bunches
Pieces of this endless land
To carry with me.
It steals my breath
And strikes my gaze
But I am afraid
Of forgetting
And feigning importance
Of lesser things
Before the great abyss,
I stare into the deep
The shadows fill my soul
And all I crave is sleep
To fade into the dream
And wander lost and numb
The flame has been put out
Tomorrow will not come
This little leaf below my foot
Neglected on the ground
I wonder where you came from
And how it is you’re found
I see your edge is torn
A piece of what you were
A mottled ruby red
From when your colour burst
You seem to have forgotten
That you’ve done these things before
You’ve shaken off the courage
Like a garment that you wore
You tell yourself the stories
Full of old and tired lies
You see your self diminished
Through someone else’s eyes
You feel discouraged and despaired
To believe in the things that are dying.
But if you have mind to create
And belief that still flows,
Then they are not dead yet.
Between the limits
Of my own small scope,
I cannot see the light
That leads beyond the rubble,
Or the restoring of order
And unity of chaos.
But from this great despair
There comes a gift of hope
For in my frail uncertain thoughts
And in the worldly wreckage
There is nothing else that can be done
But to turn and cling to truth.
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