If your soul were a garden, what would one find? Would it pulse with the hot, glowing colours of kniphofia and crocosmia, vibrant and representative of a passionate heart? Would lush grasses give way to arid expanses of sand and stone, symbolic of your broken dreams? In the garden of your soul do sweet peas twine around canes, curling around to conceal your innocence with their fragrant blooms, or do the questing aerial roots of ivy seek to hide a darker secret altogether? Do bamboos and grasses rustle and sway with your discontented sighs?
In my soul there are swathes of lavender, its silvery foliage soothing my hurts with each fragrant breeze that blows. There are pathways of chamomile and thyme leading me safely past corners where my demons hide. The exquisite scent of honeysuckle on the warm evening air cossets and envelops me, drowning out the voices of doubt and confusion. There are hints of a darker side here too; away from the sunlit borders, amongst mossy stones beneath the trees, ferns uncurl their feathery fronds, the very act itself almost overtly licentious. Bindweed creeps and twines around everything in its path, establishing a choking grip from which release often comes too late.
What is the garden of your soul like? Barren or lush? Open for all to see, or a hortus conclusus surrounded by high walls which no-one may scale? Is it awash with colours and scents, or a midnight garden of muted tones?
If your soul were a garden, what would one find?...
09/09/2004 ©
No comments:
Post a Comment