The key that cannot be used that unlocks the secrets most un-secret; free to be accepted and judged, disputes and war.
The garden you found once full of flowers, petals silky and living beautifully in the sun – your shadow stalks across them – slow and with good intent of protection and shelter, warmth. The cold will scorch and burn over the youthful stems.
The key belongs in the garden and is owned by both of us. You know the consequence as do I but we remain silent, keepers in stone – steely focus and mute to each other, the wind spreading the malicious truth.