Watering house plants, absent of circumstance,
Every morning looking brighter,
Nightfall and a love re-inspired.
This is my garden,
In which I have all my treasure.
I hear a sound from behind the mountain,
And from the flower bed, I derive my greatest pleasure
I have memories and flashing thoughts
Visiting dreams that, come the sunrise are soon forgot.
This is my garden.
From the valleys was that a roar?
This is my ground and sacred creation,
Where all is preserved to live forever more and soar.
Come beauty,
Swim dear, mystic swan.
Images of you, fragile and surreal.
You are the keeper of all that I dream through the dawn.
Be my friend, mystery child.
Won’t you answer, oh guardian of the jasmine wild?
Sounds may peak and they will not remain.
Flashes of red in my eternal sea of green.
This is my garden.
Something tried, but turned and is no more.
Arriving is the night, and the sky has darkened;
And no sounds come now from that distant shore.
Ren Michael 