In the Garden of the Mind

- jan-u-wine
Now that we have come to the end
and more,
 
more
than the end,
I find
my mind
wandering
to places
and times
I have never known.
 
Questions,
curious questions
I never
thought
to ask
weigh upon me.
 
 
The fierce gold 
of the sun
warms my hand
as I write,
(bemusedly, 
I see the clean space there,
redeemed by the blank purity
of the page) ….

flowers which have no names
spill scent
into skies
wakening to Spring.
 
Voices...

voices
of people....
 
of birds.....
 
(even the trees,
I have learned,
do
speak)
I hear them,
close......


far away--


murmuring,
singing,
whispering
of ages long passed.

They pull at me.
 
Somehow,
they want
me 
to come to them.
 
Only yesterday,
there were
decisions
to be made...


No....
better said
that
the only 
choice
left 
fell,
(but not
to me) …..
fell
into Darkness,
and I.....
into Light.
 
Did you know,
Sam,
that I was not 
with you 
then?
 
Did you know
that had your strong
hand
not
held me
to this place,
that my life
would have flown with his?

Did you know,
even now,
part of me
wishes
it had?

The Sun
warms the
small
inconsequence
of my body
as my words
drop
upon the page:
 
how can I
tell you
and
make you
understand,
Sam....
that the world
is a confusion
of light
and sound,
taste
and smell…..

It is an ancient,
tangled
forest
of good
and evil,

Light
consuming
Dark,
night
erasing
day.
 
How can I tell you
how the weary circle
that turns the wheel
of my mind

stops

and
remembers
what it means
to be
alive.....
 
Sam,
it stops
and
considers
the world again
because,
on a day
that divided
body and spirit,

Dark
and
Light,

on the very edge,
when it meant
more
than death,
my eyes
looked
into the simple
depth
of yours
and saw
the sweet green
promise
of Home
sleeping there.
 
 
Samwise.
My gardener.