Long before dusk

Long before dusk
I have been warned to return to the safe side
And leave this side of the garden
Where,
Despite the oddity,
I have availed of happiness
Shortly after meeting the rose.
But I have not done so.
I stayed for quite a while—
A while that’s too short
For joy
But too long
For realization.

Now that it’s sundown
I have to return to where I came from.
That’s to the normal side.
The sun that has set reminds me it’s late
And denies me of its guidance.
Yes the light. I have none.
And so it’s unsafe to travel back.
It’s difficult to recognize my path.
My vision impaired, my heart impaired.
Here comes the real danger—
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t want to break my word that I am never staying away.

But this garden,
The sun,
And everything else give me the reasons to take a step back
Even my feet themselves do;
They speak to me and say stop hurting it.
Stop. Just stop.
But in all sincerity I’ve never wanted to.
So if getting out of here
Is the only way to ease its pain
And put back all its pieces,
I’d gladly do.
I’d walk away.

I’ve caused this little flower so much hurt
Yet have never told it
How beautiful
How important it is to me;
How I like the new feeling that it gives me;
And how I want to stay with it
While watching its blush of red petals
And holding its hands holding mine.

Sadly, as the night falls,
My wonderful sight of the rose slowly vanishes
And it
Does
Not fight the dark.

Amidst the pitch-black,
All I hear are my footsteps.
All I feel is the cold breeze resisting my motion.
All I see is the distant cold moon
And the stars.
Then I wish upon them
The rose’s happiness and triumph
Because the rose deserves not to be hurt.
Not by me.
Not at all.

I know how this is insanity

I know how this is insanity;
I know how I am so stupid;
Yet I know
How I like the rose
I see at this side of the garden
I have never gone to before.
Not even close.
I haven’t tried. Haven’t dared.
I have always stayed
At the safe side
Where everything is normal
Where I could clearly see the leaves
And the skies
And myself.
I have always protected my sanity.
I have been sane—
At least I have been.

But at this side,
I find myself pleased,
Glad even.
I am caught off-guard.
I see myself smiling
As genuinely as I do when I dance
Or when I sing
Or when I play music
Or when I paint.
I hear myself whisper
Words I never thought I would
From that part of my heart
Which have been hidden.
Faced back.

I feel myself trembling
Against this huge passion
Against this huge liking
To pick the rose
And hug it
Realizing it’s still too small.

I smell the wrongness.
But how can it be so wrong?
How can it be that I should touch the thorn instead of the rose?
How?
Why?
Why not?

Too much confusion
Too little understanding

Too many paths
Too limited choices

Too great risks
Too small chances

Too many questions
Too obvious answers

I
Like
The rose.

I have always been open
To possibilities
But being at this side of the garden
Has never been one to me
Till it is.
And so is staying here.