Being a mess

It is soothing to feel the wind

Ruffling through my hair

And turning my waves

Into a messy uncared garden

It is soothing to be able to enjoy

Being a mess

Without anyone having to reprimand me

To pick up the fallen leaves

And the dried fruits

So that visitors do love the view

After all, a well kept garden

Remains always a joy for the eyes!

But a well kept garden

Is not alive

It breathes not

It allows not the fairies to dance at night

It gives not lovers the opportunity

To hide at night

And to build up dreams

Dreams of the days to come

And to be enjoyed together

Yes, a well kept garden

Allows not the moon and the stars to dazzle at night

For they also have to be mindful of their appearance

As the world will be watchful and critical of them

A well kept garden

Is one where rules are laid down

Meant to be followed and adhered to

While a messy one

Allows for freedom to thrive

Yes, there, anyone would feel like they belong

Anyone would feel safe

Accepted and well loved

I love it when the winds ruffle through my hair

And turn me into a mess

Why, when this happens

I just close my eyes

Smile and enjoy

For, like life, like everything else about life

It is all a game

A game played by Existence

And my futile mortal self!


2 thoughts on “Being a mess

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