Sunday, January 19, 2014
I searched high and low for a place to go,
Slipping the sovereign reign,
And the tyranny, of my destiny
To endure malaise and pain.
A malicious phage, my dark steroid rage,
Cried havoc, wild, fierce, and fey;
And at first, I thought, if I only fought,
I'd no longer be at bay.
But solace I sought, clearly dearly bought,
By loved ones who paid a price:
When they tried to stay, I chased them away:
Love rejected in a trice.
Simply being rude, I found solitude,
But true peace I could not find;
Till I found the path, past my fear and wrath,
To the gardens in my mind.
Cast adrift, I'd browse midst the forest boughs,
Crystal air scented with loam --
The warm golden air, touched with fragrance rare,
And sweetgrass, emerald ocean foam.
I would glide along, just a mellow song,
A whisper upon the wind.
Fear and grief would cease, and I'd feel at peace,
My offenses I'd rescind.
Can the joy I feel, be completely real?
Are the gardens a real place?
No longer adrift, I know they're a gift,
Granted me by Heaven's grace.
I don't fear the day, when I've gone away,
My body as cold as ice;
For I won't be dead, just my spirit fled,
To green gardens -- paradise.
Where do I go, when my world is snow mixed with meds and malaise and pain? In my mind surreal, green gardens grow real, and I am at peace again.
Posted by Mick at 3:54 PM