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Heartworms in my garden!
There are certain flowers, that never fall or turn frail,
those heartworms in my garden
of recollection, one that owns
upto its nickname of Eden, a place
that is neither Paradise nor pandemonium, but a part of me that is entirely my own, for me to have and to hold!
One of the saddest things, I've had to do there is to sweep away the petals fallen along the road to rebirth, their life plucked out untimely, a sigh escapes me, as regret takes hold of me for not doing more and I curse time out loud, the double edged sword; sometimes too quick to sever the shoots but slowly healing the wounded roots, often braided together, in that garden mine!
But then I hear my dearest speak about how happy she felt upon seeing the plants in her garden blossom and bear fruit, it made her feel like she was part of something, like life was happening right infront of her eyes, in all its glory, almost as if it was a reel playing too fast, never pausing, but always fascinating to see, like the first time!
Her words were a breath of fresh air
that turned memories like rusted leaves of autumn into green ones that sprout fresh at the height of spring, when the butterflies swarm around all the pretty flowers, like gentlemen callers waiting on their beau, eager for a touch or a kiss as sweet as nectar!
It is said that smells are the most potent revivers, they give life to days lived, and one finely scented bloom enraptured all my other senses, as everything turned a vivid shade of white momentarily and I was transported back to one glorious morning, back when I used to be eager to wake up and feel the sun's light soaking into me,I was with my kin, swerving with the wind !
My dress was in alabaster, almost a painting, that was to hang on my tiny frame, it depicted a small garden, full with flowers and leaves,drawn on
so realistically that you could almost touch and feel their skin against your fingers, It was as if I had buried myself in a bed of blooms, except they had embraced me, for I was their earth!
I was hurrying along a path my mind had conjured up,for I was a trailblazer who went on adventures daily,
and that fine morning, I was the hunter and my prey was the mighty dragon, a foe who was most perilous, I chased after my adversary, a miniature dragon, too fast to be followed, for the fly had clear wings that moved like the wind, he was not giving into me, my strategic stance failing!
My focus was consumed by the dragon, for I failed to sense that I had company in the form of one peculiar butterfly, a creature as delicate as the damsel, the one who saves herself, like in the fairytales,I think she was softness and beauty personified, but resolved and calm all the same, unlike how nature would have her to be, which made me pause, because butterflies are known to choose and visit only the prettiest of flowers!
She must be quite young, I thought, to mistakenly land on me, though no matter how innocent and sweet I was then, I was hardly a flower, wonder roused in me because of her joviality, I found myself thinking of all the places she may have flown to, all the sweetness and colour she had in her world, and I suddenly felt special to be chosen by that brave being, like I had always known what being chosen feels like, it was as if that moment was meant to be!
She was a flashy neon green in colour, camouflaged amongst the brightly coloured blooms on the canvas like dress I had adorned, she sat there so still, that I was afraid to move, Afraid that I would scare her if I acknowledged her, that she would leave me; that the most special thing that ever happened to me would end too soon; that the beautiful being who chose me would not stay!
Once I read that there are old souls in this world, who survived through trials and tribulations in their past lives and get to rest their weary beings in young bodies, collecting memoriams for people and places, they're the ones destined to roam and remember,for a millenium,incapable of settling down for they know too much for their own good!
I know their precocious propensity, for I think I am one of them, or atleast used to be; a child eager to learn and make sense of this world, where everyone's truth turns turbid, when one is blighted by cold reason and heated feelings juxtaposed, slighted in a journey that would have them turn into a sarcophagus for memories of old!
Maybe that butterfly felt the same, that I was a memory she would have to carry within her, another flower that would fall before she could find her way back again , a fruitless take on love's labour, still she had to go on, find herself another garden, a home, a resting place, maybe she was an old soul too, counting the flowers fallen, waiting to choose and be chosen, in a finale of time 's game!
-GAK
PS: Heartworms are memories that keeps popping up in your mind, a new word I learnt about recently. I loved the meaning so much that I had to write a poem about it!
PPS: So happy to be back, after a mini-break.
© the_acataleptic
those heartworms in my garden
of recollection, one that owns
upto its nickname of Eden, a place
that is neither Paradise nor pandemonium, but a part of me that is entirely my own, for me to have and to hold!
One of the saddest things, I've had to do there is to sweep away the petals fallen along the road to rebirth, their life plucked out untimely, a sigh escapes me, as regret takes hold of me for not doing more and I curse time out loud, the double edged sword; sometimes too quick to sever the shoots but slowly healing the wounded roots, often braided together, in that garden mine!
But then I hear my dearest speak about how happy she felt upon seeing the plants in her garden blossom and bear fruit, it made her feel like she was part of something, like life was happening right infront of her eyes, in all its glory, almost as if it was a reel playing too fast, never pausing, but always fascinating to see, like the first time!
Her words were a breath of fresh air
that turned memories like rusted leaves of autumn into green ones that sprout fresh at the height of spring, when the butterflies swarm around all the pretty flowers, like gentlemen callers waiting on their beau, eager for a touch or a kiss as sweet as nectar!
It is said that smells are the most potent revivers, they give life to days lived, and one finely scented bloom enraptured all my other senses, as everything turned a vivid shade of white momentarily and I was transported back to one glorious morning, back when I used to be eager to wake up and feel the sun's light soaking into me,I was with my kin, swerving with the wind !
My dress was in alabaster, almost a painting, that was to hang on my tiny frame, it depicted a small garden, full with flowers and leaves,drawn on
so realistically that you could almost touch and feel their skin against your fingers, It was as if I had buried myself in a bed of blooms, except they had embraced me, for I was their earth!
I was hurrying along a path my mind had conjured up,for I was a trailblazer who went on adventures daily,
and that fine morning, I was the hunter and my prey was the mighty dragon, a foe who was most perilous, I chased after my adversary, a miniature dragon, too fast to be followed, for the fly had clear wings that moved like the wind, he was not giving into me, my strategic stance failing!
My focus was consumed by the dragon, for I failed to sense that I had company in the form of one peculiar butterfly, a creature as delicate as the damsel, the one who saves herself, like in the fairytales,I think she was softness and beauty personified, but resolved and calm all the same, unlike how nature would have her to be, which made me pause, because butterflies are known to choose and visit only the prettiest of flowers!
She must be quite young, I thought, to mistakenly land on me, though no matter how innocent and sweet I was then, I was hardly a flower, wonder roused in me because of her joviality, I found myself thinking of all the places she may have flown to, all the sweetness and colour she had in her world, and I suddenly felt special to be chosen by that brave being, like I had always known what being chosen feels like, it was as if that moment was meant to be!
She was a flashy neon green in colour, camouflaged amongst the brightly coloured blooms on the canvas like dress I had adorned, she sat there so still, that I was afraid to move, Afraid that I would scare her if I acknowledged her, that she would leave me; that the most special thing that ever happened to me would end too soon; that the beautiful being who chose me would not stay!
Once I read that there are old souls in this world, who survived through trials and tribulations in their past lives and get to rest their weary beings in young bodies, collecting memoriams for people and places, they're the ones destined to roam and remember,for a millenium,incapable of settling down for they know too much for their own good!
I know their precocious propensity, for I think I am one of them, or atleast used to be; a child eager to learn and make sense of this world, where everyone's truth turns turbid, when one is blighted by cold reason and heated feelings juxtaposed, slighted in a journey that would have them turn into a sarcophagus for memories of old!
Maybe that butterfly felt the same, that I was a memory she would have to carry within her, another flower that would fall before she could find her way back again , a fruitless take on love's labour, still she had to go on, find herself another garden, a home, a resting place, maybe she was an old soul too, counting the flowers fallen, waiting to choose and be chosen, in a finale of time 's game!
-GAK
PS: Heartworms are memories that keeps popping up in your mind, a new word I learnt about recently. I loved the meaning so much that I had to write a poem about it!
PPS: So happy to be back, after a mini-break.
© the_acataleptic
