What exists beyond the known gardens? Beyond the gaze of the sun? The flowers that bloom in dreams, perhaps? Their colors unheard by any human eye, fragrance unpulled by any breathing limb of nature, yet they whisper in the quiet dusk, their own tangled tales.
One could attain harmony simply by tending these plants, their roots intertwining thoughts with the ground, grounding ethereal reflections into the soil. What stories would you plant, dear passerby?
Hidden Seeds