a journey of pain

i walked into the garden of wild dreams and pushed myself into the thorny bushes to reach its heart. then i felt a sudden gush of blood dripping down my face. i asked myself what it was and realized that my forehead was scourged as i pressed in. it was as if my body was painted with blood and water in small slashes of pointed stalks. skin was cut into two and some flesh was screaming out. nevertheless, it wasn't that painful. was it because i had become so vulnerable to pain that i am now unable to distinguish bliss from distress? numb, i say. well, answers never come quickly, and i cared not to ponder on it anymore.

humid was violent, it made my walk a little exhausting since it was hard to manage a scorching walk and the whirl of biting memories enshrined in your heart. my eyes began to grow teary but no defense made the tears fall. then i stopped and started to wonder... where do fallen tears go after the dark moment of tranquility? apart from its physical composition, let me know where they lead were they unable to land on someone else's shoulder and wash away the excruciating pain you hardly bear. how do we tell that a good cry was enough to throw away all the anguish one deeply hides?

still, i walked, i pushed through...
at last i was there, but the heart of the garden did not give me any answer...

and now the journey begins... once more...