Among the grove of contentment

Sits a corner of blissful unified existence

An escape from remorse

A trapdoor to expression

Equanimity patrols the air of the grove

Attacking any invading senses with a blitzkrieg of just fulfillment

Among the corner lies a patch of egalitarian wealth, stuffing the deepened pockets of life with peace and liberty

Ataraxia coats the grass

And among the grass stands a lone dead rose

Its wilted stem beautifies the circular circumference

The gentle crack of grey petals against the solemn breeze casts shatters of difference all over the garden of indifference

A thunderous footstep interrupts the neutrality of bliss existing between both dead and living organisms

Growing louder and louder, closer and closer

In one fleet downward gesture the rose is crushed

Under a boot of conformity

All remains of the renegade lie atop the floor, dead

The garden now stands completely perfect, completely dependable, completely similar.

Euan Lindsay