✢────────── 𝔊 ──────────✢ If you need me, I’ll be in the garden with cold tea, Lost between the past and all that’s waiting to be. I’ll dance toward the east where the dream carried me, Waiting for the ocean to return my key to melody. I’ll wait for you through every coming symphony, Be it thunderous storms or enchanting harmony. I’ve surrendered to rhyme and reasoning’s destiny, Self-slain in the depths of your poetic mystery. I asked myself then, do I love my enemy? By logic or design, is this medieval tragedy? Where the alchemical answer becomes death’s remedy, Or am I finally captured by my own insanity? Am I all of these, yet not one single entity? If not only in heart, but in fading memory. Perhaps the final price for seeking reality, Is a final farewell to all remaining fantasy. ✢────────── 𝔊 ──────────✢ Written in 𝔊ray © 2026 ✢──────────────────────✢
