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The Walled Garden


Gentle listener, this is a tale of the heartsick singer outside the walls of the hortus conclusus.

In there my lady picks primeroles and lilyflowers, her heart a blooming rose.

But my heart sits in a cage of bone, a lark that cannot fly to peck its rose's nectar.

I am so beset with sorrow that I must vow to leave off singing, for if she will not hear me, then my songs are but air.

...And yet, wretched as I am, I hesitate to cease my songs.
For they are air that tastes of her.

12 tracks
13 comments on The Walled Garden (View all)

dark listening times indeed Idril. if only people looked and craved for beauty in the world rather than just trying to fit in.