the garden

I sit on the edge of the garden. The garden of life, the garden of love, the garden of personal choices. Tis I, the one who is always on the edge, ready to jump down the rabbit hole. Ready to burst into the flames of creativity and to ignite the spark that ignites the spark that emits a glow illuminating my world of darkness. I hold a key. Everyone holds a key to their own separate doors, doors of their existence, doors that open into a world anew. There is a fine line between fantasy and reality. I cross the threshold enmeshing both. I have a quaint understanding of things unheard. I bring together old and new within the confines of my mind. I choose, unlike many, to follow the pique of my imagination and intuition. Asking and answering my own questions. I delve into the dark places of my own existence. Knowing what my mind is physically and mentally capable of. I love relaxing in the peacefulness as I observe life and death from the edge of the garden.