There
is a rumoured land of gardens
Just
beyond the world that we know,
Where
mortal joys and sorrows harden
Into
flowers that in the moonlight glow,
And
both the proud and meek ask pardon
From
the mortal coil, for there once to stroll.
Sweetest
music from the celestial spheres
Cannot
compare with the flowers’ song.
Angel’s
trumpets greet the jaded ear
Through
the day and all night long.
Snowbells
and bells of coral—hear!—
Peal
to the rhythm of the conductor’s baton.
Colours
of this world that we love and know
Are
limited to the rainbow’s hues—
Red,
indigo, violet, orange and yellow,
And
Nature’s favourites—greens and blues.
But
there, amidst the lavender and wild honeysuckle,
A
spectrum of nameless tints the very air imbues.
Such
fragrance as would set your senses all awry
(Delectable
scents and luscious flavours wildly blended)
To
make you think of ambrosia or manna from on high,
Like
rich earth, or salt sea, or rain lightly-scented—
(Akin
to the first kiss for a heart’s sole intended).
To
reach this rumoured land of gardens,
One
needs to board a little ramshackle boat,
For
Courage is needed for the task undertaken
And
one steers by the stars for the Lavender Coast.
Fear
not the squalls nor by tempests be shaken;
Be
guided by the star that goes by the name of Hope.
And
once the Lavender Shore is in sight,
(If
you reach the coast together, you’ll never again be alone),
Be
certain to row with all your might,
(For
not too long out of the mortal coil must one roam)
And
once you land and stroll together through the night,
This
you’ll know for Truth: Wherever you are, is Home.