My Garden

I stare out in a favorable direction with the sweetest pictures dancing into my eyes.
I see it all so clearly; colours are sharp and lines are defined.
No miscomprehension of any factor in that which play out before me.
This is my time, my game; and I want it all, no matter what.

I wonder in a garden between two fountains; each with its own benefits.
I drink from one just a little, so I may thirst when I reach the other.
The days are bright and pleasant; just like a real spring day would be.
The nights are filled with contentment, supporting the serenity holstered in my core.

The garden is great and span through all of that I know.
So, I wonder through the pastures, eating the fruit provided in this beautiful valley.
It is all here; it exists purely for my enjoyment, why shall I ponder on why?
I draw it all closer to me, make it part of who I am.

I stride through the colours of its glory; burn its pictures to my mind.
Oh… what a wonderful life I am living here, just marginally separated from the real.
On the side of this garden, (when I want to see it) is the outer-world, behind frosted glass.
How lifeless, dull and miserable its occupants seam; but remind me of my blessings.

The outer-beings seams unaware of who and where I am; it’s too much for them.
But, I am not alone in this garden; for lonely I would then be.
The garden hosts others aware enough to live in delight; drink in the pleasures that exist.
We understand each other; communicate without a word, exchanging truths.

If you read this poem and remember visiting it before, please look me up next time.
I reside here; have made this wonderful place my home, so much so that it follows me.
I move where I please as I work and play, extending the boundaries of the garden.
I take it with me, rather then have a wall around it to keep me in.

Come! Join me in this awesome place, where rules make sense and are fair.
This is a place where righteousness, expression and ethics align.
So, it might seam strange at first; humor that really bites and love that lasts.
Admittedly; my invitation is not for all; just for those who will not ruin it all.
By : Thys Groesbeek