The face of the Sun looks upon the hungry Earth
The rolling hills. The tumbling waves of its sea
Smiling, it turns to gaze upon a lonely forest
And in it, observes a man.
-

Keeping pace like a beating heart I march
It is a narrow path but my feet are sure
My cloak is no longer white
Still, I trust my heart is pure

My pack is filled with a gardener's tools
Gloves, a spade, and a vessel for water
As I shield my eyes and wipe my brow
I fear that it's growing hotter

The path opens and ahead lies a meadow
And in it I spy a castle of walls
Moving near it the thundering
Sound of a drawbridge falls

As I enter I notice the design is of old
Meant to conceal, deny, to detain
Yet to me it was opened wide and
My entry freely gained

To the left or the right, my choices are thus
The left is an open, spacious room
To the right is a winding hall
In which a darkness seems to loom

By instinct I turn towards the open air
Yet as I do with regret I knew my mistake
Out of my own cloak flies
The bite of a venomous snake

I stumble and fall to the ground with a clatter
The serpent dissolves, no longer harassed
But there's the unfortunate
Sound of my broken watering glass

To my feet as I rise with my hand on the wound
I notice the scent of a solitary flower
To the right I could've gone
How could I be such a coward?

Limping I walk down the right winding way
At the end, a courtyard and an open sky
Beginning to weep
I see her with now opened eyes

No longer a scent, but the sight of my flower
I fall to my knees, my water consumed
Clenching my heart I yearn
That I might still make her bloom

Donning my gloves, and my faithful spade
With one hand I plunge it into my chest
With the other I handle the flower gently
Placing her into my open, beating breast

Drowsy I lay my heavy head down to rest
The stars burning bright

This Earth is a dark garden in a city of lights.