In the Garden of Twilight all roses bloom.
The moon falls gently upon the damp grass.
Clouds colored by grey--
--gentle illumination by the moonlight.
I stood outside the garden, watching the bloom.
Fearing entering; begging a question:
"What if my garden sector fails?"
No roses will bloom;
No moon will shine;
No happiness will live.
Fearing the failing of the murdering of agony.
Silently wishing these sorrowful tears away.
In the Garden of Twilight, would my roses bloom?