On my return to The Garden, I wear
A simple cloak of flowers to cover
The knowledge I have learned. The others there
Arrived after us and have yet to taste
The fruit. Their limpid faces, hollow-eyed stare,
But do not see the obvious answers
To common questions we all know we share,
But dare not ask, fearing the unwanted.
I step lightly through forbidden pastures.
The scent sings, zephyrs play gently with my
Hair. Sweet tastes pulse through my lips until they
Seem to burst with life. Soft light fills the sky,
Caresses my skin, fills me with a force,
Prepares my limbs to float, to dream, to fly.
Back to Klimt! Just finished reading Camilleri's 'The Terracotta Dog'. Well worth a visit if you're a detective fiction nut like me.