The Sacred Garden Poem by Joseph Lombardo

I returned to see
That which had eluded me
A place of beauty
I'd seen so many times before.

I bounded up its ancient stairs
Which crumbled with my cares
But which, alas, could not displace
The timekeeper's game.

The metal gates a dull repose-
A slave to Colossus and all his gods.
But for all its locks and lavish frame,
Still nothing more than a rusted stain.

The grounds within-a sleepy land-
­A vibrant hidden nation,
And so I entered to rest and pray
And to hope for my salvation.

Sweet forgotten times of life's caress;
My canopy of loveliness.
Inside its flower face
I moved but left no trace

And then nearby, a quiet spot
Where once I sat and dreamt a while.
The water there of crystal blue
And I would stare a while or two.

Where are the fish of gold this day?
It seemed their time had passed away
Or was lost somewhere below, I guessed,
Within the pool's fresh murkiness.

Nor were there birds out in the trees
And I sensed that the dying breeze
Had brought much more than just seeds
Here into the Sacred Garden.

Oh, facade of pompousness
Cannot cover up the mess
Of the radiant blades of those who lied.
From my lips I breathe a sigh.