Of Towers and Gardens

Lektionen - Malin Mellryd


Of Towers and Gardens

Afar from the castle, beseech,

lies a bloodied petal, clasped by a leech.

Yet, atop the castle remains a man,

his thoughts a dungeon, his mind a den.


What is a man if no observer?

Driven by passionate fervor

Engulfed by flames, ferocious

And to witness you, a crime atrocious.


Yet, even if the dipping blood runs

through stems yours and mine, cutting tongues.

The garden owns not the man, nor the castle.

a facile recrimination, worthless hassle.


Castle o' man, such bloom and gloom,

As the petal feigns, it creates his tomb.

Why a petal not to be taken for granted

becomes the torment, his heart has chanted.


Whose grace does it beleaguer?

A confrontation, hollow, yet eager.

The scent of soil, her bloom harmonized

 la soul decart, baptized.


If and when the castle collapses,

Thy time is now, one hand relapses.

All but none, we the devotees of your harvest,

now drowning in soil, in your farthest.


But it is not the drop of blood,

Nay, to sustain me is your flock a flood.

Just as preposterous for a castle to fly,

For the man and the petal to meet, merely a plight.


Our gardens flourish, unseen, unheard,

Yet one outsider undoes my word.

Don’t we all, behind our gates, within,

thin the swing of the heart, thin and thin?


A garden breathes beneath its flight,

both soil and shadow burn with blight.

The petal bleeds, yet will not bow,

a bloom untouchable, distant now.


A castle invokes much. But a petal breaks the walls. Thus, the castle falls; yet the garden remains.

Oh, the gardens.

September 10, 2025


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