In the gardens woven of spirals and whispers,
The past glimmers, ethereal. Visions unfold—
A girl in a diaphanous dress picks roses,
Each petal a moment straying halfway into tomorrow. (Eternal Daniel)
Beneath a willow that stands across centuries,
An old traveler recounts his tales of yore:
The scent of ancient maple syrup lingers,
As does a promise whispered in dawn's embrace.
A message in the lilacs:
"Do not haste," said she, walking backwards,
Through corridors of light, golden suspended.
Another time, another self, perhaps. (The Lost Symposium)
Have you ever tasted time, friend of the garden?
The planets murmur beneath our feet;
Grass becomes a map when stared upon long enough,
Charting not where, but when.
Find your path yonder, where the compass blooms (Labyrinthine Paths)