Few try to enter this Secret Garden;
The harsh Brunswick thorns deter them.
Its granite walls seem cold and foreboding,
And all the plants seem dead and broken.
But, enter, ye! Don't fear this harsh environment
The darkness here is only perceived;
The black pearls above are society's misunderstanding
In their ignorance, they happen to overlook
The gentle green sprigs of leaves
Clamoring in the distant corner
And passers only notice
The fountain in the center,
Mossy, chipped, run-down
Alabaster marble, more perfect
Than sea foam, the statue
Of an almost realistic, sweet, small girl,
Whose wistful eyes glance entreatingly
Up, at someone much higher;
A visitor on the wall perhaps, or the sky or a star.
You can almost see her heart beating
Beneath that frozen stone of folded fabric
Across her shapely bosom,
And the slope of her shoulders belies her spirit.
Her water jar is cracked,
Grime hath pooled at her feet,
A martyr of the world.
Footsteps are heard, echoing eternity
And Time shows no sign of stopping
Only one bird sings here,
In its eternal trio
With harsh silence and cricket's hum
And for all the pearly clouds, darkness never comes,
And Dawn always lingers, sighing for this place,
Before she too moves on.
There have been gardeners,
But none stayed long enough to melt the ice
And only a plaque remains:
"There is buried treasure here,
Hidden because of Pandora's Box.
There is a strong spirit thou shouldst not fear,
Covered by thorns and rocks,
The statue is much more than stone,
Cursed by a blessing:
Love she cannot own."
The copper plate is verdigris
And almost completely covered in darkened ivy,
Hidden from those harsh eyes.
Long ago, in the Secret Garden's reign,
The young fresh plants flourished,
The thorns were joyous red, same the rose.
The fountain bubbled with lily and hyacinth
And the maiden played, was not yet cursed.
But then during a porphyrian rain storm,
She was forced to take shelter from a young man;
Hence the curse did fall,
Like the Lady of Shalot,
Looking upon Camelot.
Destiny falls, undeterred
On unsuspecting fools
For all is told through signs and Time.
The little girl lost
To he that nearly had her love
Such a pity for a world tempest-tossed.
Forever, forever, forever
Never changes pace
As it stalks among the weary
On a bloodthirsty hunt for fools.
Those that could have won,
Shall soon lose again
Death accepts us all
From the arms of her sisters
The boy does come again,
Staring at the poor helpless statue
That once was live
Mournful sounds, sheer soft missing whispers
Fill his ears with sorrow and despair.
But strangely, wildflowers bloom
The roses that had been blackened red
Turn ghostly white.
Winter reverses, Autumn returns
Alabaster doth flesh become,
And stone to cloth of silken threads.
Water flows again in the fountain,
Velvet grass swathes the earth.
Black pearls roll away
To aquamarine and talc.
Perfume of all the flowers,
Summer bounties, fragrance each breath
And pale light, nearly ethereal,
Bathes the Secret Garden
As Summer continues regressing
Into Spring.
The light is animated in their faces,
Joyousness at the rebirth;
Life returned where stone sojourned,
Blood again where ice did flow.
Together again,
Long-awaited,
Entwined by the silver cords of love,
Healed by each other's heartfelt desires
His wish was granted,
Her curse was broken,
Patience rewarded
Orpheus with his little Eurydice.
The Dream Is Over (and Eden is Gone)
She must have been dreaming,
To think that love would come again.
Though she worships it,
Love seems to have always denied her.
Inside the alabaster marble,
Her spirit stirs restlessly,
Trying to shake the armour of stone,
An armour she never really desired.
But underneath it,
She awakens from the dream,
A dream that was more of a nightmare,
For all the rayas
That once she blessed.
What good is the dream,
When, if, in waking,
All hopes have vanished.
Another Sequel
Some plant is growing there,
Providing the freshenss of youth
Amidst these cold stone walls.
Some vine is it,
As it winds its way quietly up the barriers,
Trying to escape the self-confinement,
And continue seeking heaven on earth.
The tender shoots make cautious attempts
To explore the world beyond the rayas,
While still being connected to the mistress of the garden,
That small marble girl,
Warming in the sun.
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