The Garden Grows
and how odd the flowers don’t question their colors
the art of surrender
swimming in my eyes
is vibrant.
seaside evenings my breath drowned
i imagined eating the sun as it burnt my
shoulders.
this whole illusion offered safety
every lie catches up eventually.
grieving over the false identity I built
to believe I was a self.
grieving myself.
not many grooves carved into my
mind
millions of canyons &
tunnels instead
and so it's not sad in seriousness
just catching myself forming reality
believing it was actual
wasnt simply a figment of my imagination
they tell enlightenment is bliss because it's death
death is too crazily easy… this is odd.
i skip upon the soil
surrounding, surrender now.
About the Creator
Emily Serena
truly, my dharma (life purpose) is to write. although death is an interesting means of a beggining to me rather than an end, I still choose to spend my moments as Emily, in this physical dimension, in a revolution of poetry & silent speech
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