The Garden of Rosemary and Yew Trees.

Faded by sunlight, dull colours-
capsulated by cotton and plastic esters-
scream in the silent shadows.
The delight of this traveller
is jaded and not true.

What mask does he hide behind?
So ornate and fine in detail,
where and when?

Addled with addictions, poor man.
Drenched in poppy juice to
ease the loneliness again.

The rose you wrapped around your
hearts wilted and emitted
her poison thorns. Ripped from
this world, like all pink things
unknown to man.

Love has lost the rhythm of spring song.

The winter of your mind is everlasting,
the austere death whispers of the wind
mingle with the grey snow and dust.
Buried, in cabinets in the back of your
consciousness, the dead stalk of your lover.

I can see the suffering in your old eyes,
caged by furrows and burrows
of worry rabbits, digging in your
irises. Light knows no end in these
dark tunnels.

To us, dearest, death is not
an end but a lifestyle.

The knots of rosemary plants around
the monstrous yew tree you hid
your magnificent blue coffin behind
are as silly as the sanguine
hues of dusk.

Sunrise, sunset. Birth, death.
All the same to us, dear homeless
wanderer. No end but an infinite
cycle of misery and ether.

One day, the circle will break
and catch the wheel of eternity.
That day we will be free to
taste something new than
loneliness and dead petals.

Oh wow. I just...wow.

That was truly, in every way, about that picture. The man and his call for change. I think it was amazing. This verse was my favorite in terms of imagery and the fact that I just like it:

The winter of your mind is everlasting,
the austere death whispers of the wind
mingle with the grey snow and dust.
Buried, in cabinets in the back of your
consciousness, the dead stalk of your lover.

and this verse represents the whole concept very clearly, i think.:

Sunrise, sunset. Birth, death.
All the same to us, dear homeless
wanderer. No end but an infinite
cycle of misery and ether.