Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls about.
Lost within the leafy maze
unsure whether those statues are moving
or if it is shadows playing tricks?
I can hear the baying of the hounds
and wonder, can they be for me?
I escaped from the prison of my mind
fighting my way back
from the depths of the madness
only to discover that there is no way out.
I whirl around, fear tangent in the air
my breath comes in brisk gasps
fear reaching out with blackened limbs
ready to encircle,
to capture me and pull me back.
Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls
and the Jester roars.
His laughter savage
as I am pinned,
beneath his silvered gaze.
There will be no freedom,
only a soul mired in anguish
the Jester’s bride,
captured and maddened,