how do you describe
the big wide world inside?
poetry doesn't even begin
to play with the edge of its underskirt.

why what where when? how?
how is inconcievable,
you must take it as it is.
(questions hide answers with their asking)
why? why ask?
what...
(what's in a name?)
"a rose by any other name would smell as sweet..."
where? overthere!
and under you,
above you,
beside you,
through you.
Y O U.

when,
Now, forevermore...
when you aren't looking,
beauty will strike

and for that Now-moment
there will be no poetwords,
no photographs to store the image
no painters with talent enough
for the breath that fluctuates within the scene.

there will be only You
and Nature
and God.

and it is in one of those moments
where my garden's seed was planted,
by the Primordial Poet.
flowers bloom,
vines climb,
fruit ripens...

and desire
(which i should set my Self free of)
aching to walk hand in hand with someone
down these grassy paths,
the most luscious green blades
ever an eye has looked upon.
but it seems to me,
after all of this
so-called Time,
there is no one who would see what i see.
this vision is only for me.
a gift
from me.

and solitude seems the best company...
walking here in gardens meant for me.

01/10/2003

Posted on 01/10/2003
Copyright © 2025 Bethany Lee