Stone angels guard the gates
Of this rampant, savage garden
I walk down the shaded path
Past the grim granite guardians
Do they watch me as I pass?
Thunder rumbles up above
And a barren old oak tree provides shelter
But what's this I see, peeking from behind the roses?
An ancient fountain, dry of drink but dripping still
Skeletons abound inside this deep dark well
Long departed goldfish, leave their stories behind
In this abandoned utopia that is paradise.
I continue my journey, following the gentle tinkle of water
Gazing into the tempest waters that reflect nothing,
I see something at the fathomless bottom
There lies the testimony of many a lost wanderer
A magnificent compass with the needle pointing accusingly south.
Rain is falling from the dark, troubled sky
And I turn to go, leaving behind me the secrets of this place
As I rush out of the gates, something brushes my shoulder
I turn and am confronted once more by the angel's stony silence.
Is that a smile I see on its face?
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