For years, I walked through my garden of excuses,
beautifully laid out, symmetrical and abundant.
The tapestry of seduction and deceit, fertile ground
for my field of illusions, with new growth ripening,
under the constant warmth of the gliding sun.
Blissfully, I tended that site, accessible to no one,
ritually, I covered my tracks, and gave nothing back.
Until the weather changed. My labyrinth garden,
my identity came under siege, the wind and the rain
washed it all away, exposing the broken bedrock below.
My barren soul, rootless and drained, drifted into dark
shadows without a trace. Freedom claimed me,
Illuminated me, called me home. My watery eyes
and fragile, pounding heart became my throne.