A garden grows
At the top of the soil
With a touch of sadness
To it
A lonely soul
Is leaving
Hoping to have it better
In another place
There is gold in the earth
And next to it
A hidden wound
A flood of sadness
And the body of a man
He is resting now
Near water and green
He is dreaming
Of a life that he could have
If he managed to go up
To the open air
Passing the blood
And the tendency of history
To pull us down
Against our will
In the open air
Our garden grows
Married
To a trauma
But we know
Don’t we
That every morsel of this scene
Is made of gold
We wipe our golden tears
With wonder.
intuitiveflow 
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