Here amongst the thorns, each petal, a struggle, a beautiful chaos, in the garden of life, a patchwork of color, a celebration of absurdity, a Dadaist manifesto written in stems.

Vines twist, entwine, grasping for sunlight, while deep below, roots mingle, a hidden tale, a fraternity of kin, a collaboration with dark, a promise fulfilled.

In the quiet orchestra, every rustle is music, fragile whispers carried, by the delicate fingers of the wind, at the edge of dusk, a sunset story unfolds, a saunter into night.

I wander, a reverie among wild blooms, a moment of clarity, a connection to this, a reality fabricated by nature’s hand, wrapping life in rich layers of joy, a fractal of existence.

• Alice Toklas