THE GRAVEYARD IN THE GARDENS

"I know the stone that waits for me,

one blank among the quiet sea.

Though none could name the life it keeps,

I know the place where he sleeps.

For though the gardens twist and wind

through every fragile human mind,

there lies one field the lost are shown

…and one day mine will rest beside his own."

Just beyond the knowing bloom of The Lunatic Gardens, a darkness tends to its own darkness.

The flowers breath in grave‑moss and myrrh, each petal a whisper from the buried.

Hang it where the living forget to look.

Let it remind you that beauty, too, can rot.