This is my garden.

One that is natured by the tongue

When the sun burns the sea

The heavens rejoice and fall in tears.

and the tears fall on the silent green.

Then crops wake from their slumber.

Break free of earth

And begin to blossom

This is my garden.

And I am the gardener

When the sun sets

The sky is coated black.

As stars begin to shine

The birds become afraid and rest in their nests.

Then we hear its roars.

Sleeping nature

Waking of the nocturnals

Yes, this garden

Houses all animals

Some crawl, some walk, some slither, and some swim.

Yes,

This is the garden of melody.

The garden of the sounds of the tongues

Praised, worshipped, embraced, and questioned

The garden where poets

Define the world