There is door and beyond it there lies a garden
where superfluous flowers bloom without seasons
where dead stars illuminate the roots of ancient trees
where discarded wishes grow into magnificent forests
and where forgotten songs become rivers
that flow backwards through time
and there are no useful things here
no boundaries to contain the wildness of imagination
and yet it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen
I wander beneath the impossible blossoms
listening to the voices of everything the world has rejected
and suddenly I understand, that perhaps the world
has mistaken usefulness for meaning
perhaps the stars are superfluous
to the business of daylight
the sweet fragrance of the roses
are unnecessary to the survival of flowers
and poetry, an extravagant indulgence
in a universe that could function perfectly well
without a single verse
but what a terrible universe that would be
©Ann Bagnall
