Lo, and did the garden sing
From the meticulation of my toil;
That in my dreams, it came to me
And took on skin as its new soil.
Escape my chest, from waxing heart
A rose aglow and and vigilant.
Just as well, the vibrant vines
Lightened the dark as they came and went.
Sustained they were, upon my soul,
Eating through high and low tears.
Thriving in the fertile crescent
That place called age; the river Years.
Did I awake; confused, distraught
A mere fancy and nothing more?
Your root, my veins still deep inside;
Birth me, the seed, through what’s in store.