Thorns Entwined

The Glade

Along the streets of sewer rats and dirty shameless races,

When stilt skin giants came out to play, with fiercely painted faces,

When squares filled up with creepy clowns, tobacco grime and haters;

Inducing Alice’s desire to flee these comic capers.

Whilst longing for a silent place of equanimity,

She saw a path that led to where, she could become unseen…

A place from beyond appeared through to a lonely avenue,

As she found herself within a forest, in multi-coloured bloom.

Here she ran swiftly up a hill towards the wood and wake,

To rest beneath the trees, which lend their gentle loving shades,

But suddenly a strange force …A Pull…A Push of Gravity,

Inclined from up above her and declined from down beneath.


What could she do – but fall further into this dismal deep?

Profoundly she felt immersed inside until she longed to sleep,

She fell and fell for days until her days turned into weeks

Oh, how she yearned to see the sky but still came no release…

* * * * * *

Until then one day – to her disbelief

– Abruptly she stopped when she had reached,

A thorny rose shrub grown to a size,

Which only butterflies could breeze.

Here was a sight,

a spiky site

– a solitary retreat,

And one she had not perceived,

Before she went from end to end,

Smashing through it senselessly.


Now with her pure white apron corrupt

– bearing the stains of her red blood,

The colour of a rose-bud,

Grown from in and out of love.

She began to weep and bloom,

As her pure heart commenced to swoon,

“Is this what I suffered and sought through all my pain?

Where is my Beloved?

When He be, ‘closer than my jugular vein’?

I came at this point – thinking He’d be here,

Instead this place brings me to my knees in fear?

Is this how You show your jealousy to an old friend?

When she has stayed alone for so long and kept it till no end?

Now, if I be a lover then at least help me to endure the same,

And if I should die within this jungle,

Let me do it whilst saying your name,

I swear my love to You and dance upon the thorns in Your garden,

Forgive me this – My frenzied bliss,

Fevering pretences ardent.”

And thus with her eyes bulging like big balloons,

She began to lick her wounds,

A dry mouth panting

Her body sweating like a beastly fool,

A big buffoon.

As light as an ant

As loyal as a dog,

She’d reached her final end and back,

To have gained more than what she had lost,

She then survived and died,

Then survived again a thousand times,

For just one glimpse or a glimmer of the Ghostly Guide,

Who knew she had to learn to sacrifice her pride,

Before Alice becomes again in loves thorns entwined.


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