The garden of time
There is a tree growing between broken ruins. This tree once flowering, now withering away. It's roots are still standing strong, embracing every broken stone it finds. Now withering, it awaits it's fate. Ending up in ruins, or gifting it's fruit once more.
There is a garden, isolated between the clock's ticks. Hiding a secret no one wants to see. A beautifull castle, standing embracing this garden. Garding the garden from within. Embraced by the scenery of this garden.
There is an apple laying in a wooden basket. This apple once united with it's life gifter, now laying there amongst others. As ticks of the clock pass, waiting it's fate. Is it the start of a new begin, or the end of what has started?
There is a castle, hiding a secret. A secret even time doesn't dare touch. A young sapling sprouting in it's court. Once a seed now a new begin born from an end that started beyond the ticks.
There is a seed, waiting at the core. Trapped between layers it can not escape. Awaiting it's fate, awaiting with potential no one knows where to seek.
There is a tick, echoing through the corridors. What is the tick if it runs all ways? The clock is an illusion waiting to fool the ones that take the bite.