Welcome to my secret garden. If you have arranged an appointment, you can enter right away; if not, we’re gonna have to—sorry, you’re gonna have to take some precautions. Perhaps you should be a first timer, or even worse, an old timer who has forgotten all about the thrill and danger; of the many rules and their perpetual nonexistence.
In the garden of my gathering love, lies a valley of lively lilies which are just there to be appreciated and loved. There’ a long road of old dust and pebbles for tough walks yet to come. The road shall ever be unpaved by the many souls who walk it or try to walk it off.
The sky shall remain as gloomy as a sunny day’s sorrow which is right there under the glowing light, exposed to all those with darkness inside; And then shall the cloudy night bring with it, an air of dark joy, just to light a shattered soul and fill it with a glowing beam of raindrops.
The drops of rain, when they pour or simply drizzle, surpass the many fears of the many spirits that carry them and break the soulless heart of those who are scattered in that trodden ocean of darkened blue and rustic flow. The raindrops have known better in the past; today though, their ignorance is their sole legacy to the rain.
The fire which burns comes in that cold and warms the soul which is very weak to the touch of aliens or lovers or simply any living soul that cares to share a flicker of flickering fire that burns. It talks with the sparkling sparks of the warm glow that it releases into the rainy night and it says things of heartfelt feelings and a warm touch of fire is their gift.
The heat that fills the heart with touching the external soul comes and takes away the shaky heart of a frozen spirit and offers a warm embrace, so that maybe a sweet after taste of sunlight would be the only heritage it has to leave in the empty heart of this soul which has long suffered.