Story of my Secret

I need my dove to fly, leaving footprints of blank color.

-----------------fin---------------------------
"when I die, bury my body on that spot,
where i, anxious and in fear of my own self,
killed the hopes and dreams of my garden of azaleas.
Perhaps as lie dead and dreaming, fueled by those dreams
i may give birth to that unknown plant once more."


-----------Begin here-----------------
In your garden of white azaleas,
there is a strange plant, blossoming.
It needed no seed, seeks no water or sun
it existed because it must,
the beauty of the azaleas called for it
to rise out of nothing.

Now your garden is transformed in your mind,
because of one strange plant, that needed nothing.
Your azaleas, seem buoyant and young
Yet you ask yourself, what will it grow into?
Will it lead my prized garden to ruin?

The unknown plant gave off a mysterious scent
creating excitement, doubts, fear in your mind.
Growing ever uncomfortable, day by day,
until you gently kneel by the plant
and pluck it out, unable to whit stand not knowing.

Your garden of Azaleas remained beautiful, sweeter
and your mind has quietened in this safety.
Yet the unknown plant, stubborn in will, rose again.
Day after day, you pull them out, never once curious
of the nature of this plant, that just refused to go.

It has now become one more of your duties,
watering azaleas, weeding, pulling out the unknown plant.
You are amazed, yet refuse it a place in your garden.
One day, that single plant , that grew out of nothing,
whitdrew into the soil, defeated by you.


--------------the myths---------------------
Time sweeps upon your beautiful garden
Azaleas blossomed and lived, and grew tired
their scent waned of its intoxicating perfume
their sight seemed feeble, not delicate, just incomplete
their relentless aura has stopped feeding your soul.

In anger, you plant new roses, hibiscus and carnations.
You learn at once, that they would never belong here.
Growing old and weak and alone, everyday
you eyes and mind wanders, fixing on that spot
where one unknown plant grew, out of nothing

Without wanting to, you wonder, and dream .
You hear echoes in the distance, birds?
A fleeting feeling of sudden warmth, and cold
a fragrant breeze soaring thorough your hair
an intense longing that stops just short or revealing itself.

-----------veritas-----------

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Alexander Graham Bell

A secret is like a dove: when it leaves my hand it takes wing.Who can catch my white dove?