The Garden holds the key that unlocks the mind's doors, releasing the shackled dreams of yesteryear thoughts and persuasions. The lush greenery supplying the life blood of creation, bringing forth the visions and echoes of a past/present state of mind, lost within the outside world, bound by convention and expectation. Within The Garden's walls, one finds realisation of hope, the rebirth of thought and the growth of ideals thought extinct.
As the morning sun shines upon ivy strewn walls, ambient textures paint surreal soundscapes, defined by undertones of ethereal countenance and corporeal development.
The Garden breathes out the softened passions of the music, searching the depth of the psyche to create tonal poeticism, enduring paraphrases of balanced audio driven contrasts, potentially lost within the confines of the existance of others. The Garden delicately guides the way along a path that allows the finding of the inner being, in turn to find the landscapes of the future's past and the hidden desires of the mind's ambient attitude.
As I sit within the chair, I am bedazzled by the myriads of green, Nature's purest colour drenching my soul in a vista of forgotten dreams and Roman springs, lighting the chartreuse outlines buried deep within my sub-conscious self with a diffuse glow of creation. I am carressed by it's beauty, simplistic yet built of the greatest delicacy like lace on the smoothest skin, rapture in verdant splendour.
The inter-play of the sun and the veined leaves of a wise and prophetic oak tree cast dancing ribbons of light and shadow across The Garden's lawned belly, rippling textures of illumination and dark vying for the attentions of those of us that look their way, their child-like interaction holding fast my attention for minutes that seem to masquerade as hours. No malice comes my way as I reflect upon Time's freezing the of "the moment", standing as still as the sundial, it's movement subtle and without fuss, giving The Garden a gift of life beyond any linear fashions that manifest upon all that lives outside of it's embracing walls.
I am now lost. My being succumbed to the virtuous passions of The Garden, my mind drunken with the inane desires of this natural environ drawing breath from my body, breathing out life unknown in mysterious unspoken words of intimate detail that defy understanding yet remain known within the multitudinous spheres of existance. All who dwell within The Garden's ethereal realm know that words are not needed, thoughts dancing in the gentle fragranced breeze, warmed and illuminated by a Summer sun that traverses a celestial pathway of creation. Life stands waiting.
There comes a time for the sun to fall, for warmth to turn to cold, for blue to turn to black. As night drifts it's seductive veils across The Garden's being, all thoughts turn to another day, another day where the walls keep out the Draconian guards of malice and intrusion, the martyrs of a bleeding heart that beats life from all who hear it. Sleep comes easily to those who reside within these sheltering walls, rest bringing strength, the interlude of night nuturing resolve to keep the candles of existance burning bright. Creation unbound within The Garden.
Neil Fellowes August 2006
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As naked eyes speak....
The Garden holds the key that unlocks the mind's doors, releasing the shackled dreams of yesteryear thoughts and persuasions. The lush greenery supplying the life blood of creation, bringing forth the visions and echoes of a past/present state of mind, lost within the outside world, bound by convention and expectation. Within The Garden's walls, one finds realisation of hope, the rebirth of thought and the growth of ideals thought extinct.