The Garden of My Life

My inner world is a piece of garden and I, it’s gardener. 
In mysterious ways, I unraveled our connection.

At dawn, my eyes were in all-awe of the pristine garden.
I ran around merrily, naive my steps.

By noontide, I was busy reaping bountiful gifts.
Carefree my attitude, enjoying every moment as though in a trance I were.

It was only in the afternoon that I understood our intimate connection.
That it were my personal sanctuary, and I must toil alone before reaping again.

The twilight was truly a golden experience to behold.
I judged not the dance of light and shadows; appreciated them with a humble heart. 

As the night sets-in now, my weary eyes admire the moon of hope.
Reminiscing the eventful day, and a smile of gratitude on my lips, I await my sleep.

I dream of waking up a naïve child in my garden.
And running-amok in it for the first time, again.