In the darkness of night, one walks quietly along a dimly lit street, in a determination to reach one’s destination; that place is home.  One encounters the squalling sounds that only darkness and imagination can bring.  The sounds grow louder as crickets screech whilst cats fight and squeal and dogs bark in a type of chain reaction,thus one cannot resist but to feel hemmed into a world that is felt as a never ending journey into the realms

that darkness beholds, an inner peace and yet feeling alone.

    The dank garden in front of a large and ancient house gives an outward feeling of immense invitation,thus,dismay

it cries out in yearning for tragedy.  The sorrow of the weeping willow trees cry anguish in a foresight of a death bed.  The garden cries aloud for its victim.  The fiendish plot is held within the ultimte dimension.  The dank garden is quiet and unassuming, the disguise is helld within the very depths, as if a magnetism is the creator and claw.

    The night is dark, wintry and bold; the chill is cold as the jagged landscaped rocks give appearance to a secret weapon for it breathes with full acceptance for its victim.

Its a mere formality and predestiny for the garden slope.