Foreshadowing : The Garden ðŸŒ±

When I worked at the organic farm I had my own plot of land that I was going to use some for myself but mostly for my trained chef to cook in shelters and churches as well as I noticed people would always stop and stare when I would garden so I could give them something (like a bunch of Swiss chard) to maybe lure them to the market.

My last summer there someone spilled a whole bag of long bean seeds in my garden. My interns and I spent days trying to pick out every seed we could…… I thought we did a good job but one rainy week later my plot was overwhelmed with half ripe long beans. I picked those out and they came back again and nothing I planted peppers, bok cho, Swiss, kale had a chance to grow. So I kinda gave up cause we were already well into the season. ☹️

I didn’t think this would be foreshadowing for my mind. I had all these beautiful seeds waiting to grow, cared for, planted with joy, watered, anticipated.

And then someone or something comes and over powers my mind with the most vile thoughts. Not to say long beans are vile but the fact that nothing else could grow ruined the experience.

I feel like my mind was sprinkled with these seeds of light. And those seeds ended up growing into a garden of the most vile thoughts. A vine of connection to entities that could care less. I am earth…. fertilized….. water…. light…. air

I watch flowers grow energetically around me but I can not be deluded by the lure, they were the tongues that spoke lies ….. implanted.

And now they wrap themselves around my family and loved ones.

I can’t even look at my sister directly. For what ever binds us …. binds us in sport than in nature.

I want to feel safe. Be safe. My mind was that haven and now all I have is the burden of knowing whatever attacked me ….. whatever entity…. demon …. or alien foreign to my being that it has hurt my family…. in ways I would rather be unsure of.

My garden was over ran with demons who pierced my cells with seeds that grew into flowers that created nectar. It doesn’t matter the flavor.

It’s easier to be sad than mad. Mad splits the intention into the opposite spiraling you into a frenzy.

I miss my garden. My secret hideout in a strange world. Wear music danced words became color feelings melted in the ocean of my mind.

Foreshadowing I guess it’s suppose to be ironic.

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