Not a Real Garden

Is this a poem? Or not poetry? Is it philosophy? Is it creation? Is it a person's spiritual life that cannot be shared? Is it such a helpless drop of water in the sea, silent in the world, sinking into the most powerful secret that no one knows? Is it life or the future, vanity or desire, where should my song - if it can be said poetically - be directed? Formidable heroes with iron shields and razor-sharp spears, how could I dare to say a word without a secret turmoil and frivolous emotion? ... Chichiha, come on, go back to your haystack.