whispers of a secret garden
I fear the ordinary people... The people who make the ordinary so dreadful, typecasted, banal, cliche and shallow... All sun, no contrast of shade.
I live in the terrain of my mind. Its a secret place that's turbulent... And magickal, autumnal and god-seeking... It animates and exanimates... Its trees speak and its moon reflects the light and will of God...
But how do I get someone 2 walk there w me? How do I take the ordinary man w an ordinary life, that I too dwell in cuz I have 2 2 survive, to climb the ladder up, take off his shoes and walk barefoot on my mind?
Its not any more amazing than anothers secret garden... Its just mine... I long 2 share it for I can't handle hiding it or hiding from it. THAT'S when I lose it and all things untangle... The suppression and repression starts the cycle of regression...
But I long 2 walk up there. To take him there with me...
I cannot date and love for real when there between us stands a private world where only I may dwell.
"there r parts of me he'll never know. My wild horses and my riverbeds..."
I work at ordinary and the beautiful gifts therein... But I can't kno that ill leave him once and a while 2 walk on ground he's never touched...
I feel robbed of the sharing of a secret. I feel alone in my world I can only attempt 2 explain 2 him... This imaginary him I can only pray 2 find.
Not all of madness is sad... Parts r of flowers and dragonflies, spiderwebs and bird songs...
My garden shall 4ever remain untouched by his hands... And my secret shall die for having never been told.
I live in the terrain of my mind. Its a secret place that's turbulent... And magickal, autumnal and god-seeking... It animates and exanimates... Its trees speak and its moon reflects the light and will of God...
But how do I get someone 2 walk there w me? How do I take the ordinary man w an ordinary life, that I too dwell in cuz I have 2 2 survive, to climb the ladder up, take off his shoes and walk barefoot on my mind?
Its not any more amazing than anothers secret garden... Its just mine... I long 2 share it for I can't handle hiding it or hiding from it. THAT'S when I lose it and all things untangle... The suppression and repression starts the cycle of regression...
But I long 2 walk up there. To take him there with me...
I cannot date and love for real when there between us stands a private world where only I may dwell.
"there r parts of me he'll never know. My wild horses and my riverbeds..."
I work at ordinary and the beautiful gifts therein... But I can't kno that ill leave him once and a while 2 walk on ground he's never touched...
I feel robbed of the sharing of a secret. I feel alone in my world I can only attempt 2 explain 2 him... This imaginary him I can only pray 2 find.
Not all of madness is sad... Parts r of flowers and dragonflies, spiderwebs and bird songs...
My garden shall 4ever remain untouched by his hands... And my secret shall die for having never been told.