The Garden
’Twas a morning like any other,
The skies were clear
And the birds would flutter.
Save for a nagging sense of fear.
In merry glee, I would look,
Outside my kitchen window.
A giant black rose; fear it struck
In the heart of my soul.
It lay in the middle of my garden,
Crushing the flowers beneath it,
With its writhing tendrils seeking sin
Coming out bit by bit.
Upon seeing the flower,
Its tendrils reached out to me.
I had to go to it, I couldn’t resist its power
It was calling out to me, a destiny to be.
I ran outside towards the mass,
To see what I would find.
A memory of the recent past.
A grim fate already bound and bind.
It was then that I saw what it truly was,
It was not a flower, but a portal.
A portal to where there are no laws,
A place for no mortal.
Despite better judgment,
I touched its petals,
It pulled me in to a land of attachments.
A land where dust settled.
