Garden

Home was a garden - botanical and alive
colours as common as the oxygen which enriched the air
fresh and clear. Seeds sprouted with beaming sun
Life prospered like a puddle full of tadpoles.
Safety was the shade; the shadows of the oak
of certainty which sheltered its inhabitants under
its somehow bright dullness. In all the world's eyes
variety of this calibre was never seen, diversity
was the foundation of the existence.

I burned that garden to the ground
and in its flames I saw infinity
and it planted a seed in my head
that grew like a virus.

And from the ashes
rose a wisp of smoke
and it vanished.