Waking into a garden of wonder I start my day.

I stumble, tripping over petalled vines and soft underbrush.

Composed, I face out to meet the wasteland surrounding Eden.

My fight begins anew. Eden must grow. I must reclaim what was lost.

A war fought by a gardener; decay the enemy; a shovel the weapon I chose.

I chip away at midnight stone, a cold hard blanket absorbing light and stifling life.

On hands and knees, I pry up flakes of blackened earth, freeing the potential beneath.

I often water the fresh ground with my life as the stone fights back.

In war it is a price I gladly pay.

The sun, high and red, shining through a bloody veil, offers its challenge.

It takes no sides in the war. It offends all; aids all.

As unyielding as the waste, it watches the fight; testing.

I too will not yield. Force met with force draws out a never-ending battle.

But I gain ground each day I fight.

My garden grows.

The waste does not shrink.

As the sun sets, the waste rises in opposition. Thriving in the dark it seeks to undo the day.

It is a battle I cannot face head on. This war is of attrition.

I lay my head down in a garden of wonder. The sounds of nightmares sing me to sleep.

I must rest. Tomorrow's fight awaits.