Japanese Tea Garden.

I am reminded of a Japanese Tea Garden I once visited during the Springtime. It must have been over seven years ago. I remember waking up to a morning much like this one, although the silence was not so still. I was, at the time, experiencing life not as I do now, but as someone who was still involved in something more than what is now immaterial.

I was overwhelmed by the flowers, some fully bloomed and some just beginning, as I walked through the garden gates. The flowers had me mesmerized with their bright yellows, pinks, blues, and purples: daffodils; peonies; irises; and tulips. I suddenly found myself with a feeling of weightlessness. I was alone with the butterflies, the birds, and the insects, within their habitation. The roaring of the outside world no longer existed and I was alone in that charming garden, with only the soft sounds of nature enfolding me in her song of peace. 

I would have wished to stay in that garden for an endless time, but something suddenly reminded me that that dreamlike place could never be my reality; as the world outside will always be in full existence, and that garden could only be my temporary distraction.