Lost in this dark but lively meadow,
where day and night pass overmorrow,
yet covered in a heavy veil evermore -
A vast expanse only ours to explore.

Wandering through the uncertainty,
as I walk with my light set before me,
thorns lash out from the darkness,
and my skin is scratched, almost as if to say -
"You are wrong for going this way."

"Fear not!", cries out the roseberry bush,
scents of Lavender and Gardenia as its lure.
"Reconsider and come this way instead,
and all that you want, you'll get."

I ponder for a moment in eternity,
whether I believe the garden's poetry.
I note that I cannot find acceptance,
and I carry onward with a heavy sigh,
unfulfilled curiosity heavy on my mind.

With such silhouettes lurking in the gloom,
my mind can only seek out doom.
Yet there is place for a certain strange sorrow,
missing all the beauty that hides in the shadow.

I know not where to go,
I know not what to do,
amidst this magical meadow of mist.
Burdened by its shroud of mystery,
and the appeal of all of its fruit,
I can only wander round and round,
forever confined within an insignificant circle -
Unable to discover anything further out.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that is alright,
for that might as well be called home.
A familiar in the midst of unfamiliarity,
my place in the meadow.