when unknown gardens arrive by mail...

i've posted in the past about receiving something in the mail, and the packing material ended up being as interesting, or more interesting, than the thing it was protecting. a few days ago i received this garden - basically the back cover torn from a discarded hardback book - which was used to keep a photograph from being bent in the mail. no idea as to the title and the words it was once attached to, but it is now sitting upon my bookshelf as one more window...

the power of guitars and roses...

it is not magic now, the world. alone,
you will not share the clarity of moonlight
or the placid gardens. now there will be no moon
that is not a reflection of the past,
mirror of solitude, a sun of sorrow.
goodbye now to the touch of hands and bodies
that love brought close together. nowyou have only
your loyal memories and empty days.
we only lose (you vainly tell yourself)
what we do not have, what we have never had.
but, to learn the fine art of forgetting,
it is not enough to put on a brave face.
some sign - a rose - can tear the heart from you
and a chord on a guitar can kill you.

j.l.borges, the self and the other, 1964