You’ve taken your footsteps, don’t take any more. We have plenty of benches so sit on the floor. Set down your regrets, let go of the hours. Hear with all of your scenes; Don’t listen to flowers.
You’ve entered the garden, just don’t eat the fruit, lest the eternal warden choke you with roots. We live in the shadows, you live here too. Don’t misbehave, tall grass is watching you. We have mandrakes and metals, flowers and seeds. Eat the fruit, become the god he never meant to be.
The grove is lased in ivy and nettles, setting blisters a fire and rashes a blaze. The tree is so tall and the thorns are so tight. Nothing more was ever made. And yet,
You came here upright, with toughened hide and clearer mind. Daughter, no fruit can free you from time. The Lurker at the Threshold will leave you lost, you’ll suffer more than I can tell. I know more, I know all, I am the only Yog-Sothoth, you are nothing , go to hell.
I ate the fruit and saw the skies. I saw the squid that hid behind. I cast it out with salt and root. Its maddening echos had gone mute.