Last Secret Garden

Hello my dear readers. My profuse thanks for all the comments that you have left here. How has everyone been doing? One does hope that you have had a splendid Christmas, what with the exchanging of presents? and the imbibing of the innocuous liquids they call alcohol. Are you going to do the same for New Year's Eve? It will be much more rowdy and happening, I assure you. Somehow the word "happening" coming out here gives a very wrong feeling, but eh bien...

Now now, it seems like all I have been doing recently is apologising for the lack of posts. Sad, but true.

My alternative persona has fully wakened from its slumber and one's afraid that there's no stopping it. There has been too much things that need doing and too little things that needs thinking, thus the awakening of it. But slowly, as Winter's Solstice passed and the Moon wanes, one can feel again the lessening of it. For once again, the great horn blows in the distant fields, calling out to me.

With the awakening of it, my muse has also fled the realm and with her, my thoughts. As if there was no Aristocrat in the first place, no Whispers of A Blue Moon. The pen that resides in my left hand lies there, restless. Yes, I'm a left-hander, a solitary soul among those right-handers. A solitary soul that canst find belonging in this world. And I have taken the first step into the unknown, the first step of the road less taken. It shall remain to see whether it will make all the difference to me as it did for Monsieur Frost.

And with the awakening of it, my secret garden has also vanished into thin air. My secret garden, the one where I retreat to when I'm feeling overwhelmed or when I need comfort. My harbour, my hotel solace so as to speak. Elvina will know what I am talking about.

A place where one lies back in comfort, listening to the rushing fall of water, the peal of the birds in the lush trees and the gentle wind caressing your face. An explosion of colours and serenity, more peaceful than you can ever imagine. Sometimes, just sometimes, I might see a little girl in frocks sitting on that garden swing, her pearlie whites flashing at me, swinging ever so slightly in the breeze. And I might just give her one of those idiotic grins, telling her she's welcome. And it so sets the heart at peace with the world. It gives you the feeling of invincibilty, as if nothing can touch you here. No sadness, no happiness, no longing, no love, no hate.

Just peace.