Notes About The Poem
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. Rumi
My Heart is a Secret Garden
This fortress is overgrown with moss,
guarded from storms of selfishness,
when the waltz with winter left behind
a mausoleum covered in frozen dahlia dust.
Fading with scents of summer Jasmine,
peaches rot in a forgotten orchard,
where ivy strangles statues of past lovers,
whose infatuation drifted with nemesis clouds.
But, beyond the barricade
with every butterfly beat,
there is a sigh craving for comfort from
lips that will surrender this solitude.
My soul searches for Rumi's field of fairness,
where 'forever' is not just a gesture and
honesty is not hidden behind metaphors.
Yet, I wonder if love is a beautiful phenomenon
that will endlessly evade my grasp.
In this giddiness, I ponder
why romance is an abused cliché,
so should I gift my garden to another,
when petals I plant only perish?
Maybe, I am not worthy,
maybe, I seek for it in starry eyed fantasies,
where all bonds are evergreen -
but in reality most are moulded artificially
Confined inside the sanctuary of this heart,
behind a stubborn shield,
there is a love story where roses flourish,
alongside honeysuckle, untouched.
Knock to enter if you desire to cultivate,
not conquer through self-centred crusades.
Compose a chorus of internal birdsongs,
to revive extinct flowers. blossoming in my
oasis of kisses, only seen in your dreams.
A simple Sunday Musing. An example for the contest I am currently running.
17 May 2026
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