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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 |