You put forth your hand and began to mold.
You could see your very consciousness beginning to fold onto itself forming some sort of beautiful shape. Perhaps it was a bit to abstract, for now at least. It turned into an ethereal structure representing your very essence. But it was not clear enough, it did not prove your point if you had any. So you began to twist it more and more. Into several dozen forms. Your eyes begin to glimmer as you do. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. As if it was... shining a emotion you've only experience when you were the youngest of babes. You can see it. An semblance of ambient noises and melancholic chimes mixed in with clapping noises could be around you.
You smiled. It was your creation. You further warped it into your desires. It came to represent even more about you. More than just your essence but your reason of being. Your very story and even your life. You can hear the ooh's and wow's from others around you. A semblance of clapping from ethereal unknown beings came to your ears. But your mind burst with wonder and artistic desires began to craft your very own morals(or like thereof) into it. The very cosmos became etched into your being as you became one with the abstract, obscure forms and colors of the garden's sky.
If this was the garden of the mind. Then you became the Keter, the crown that resided outside it.
You could feel the harmony of the skies and wind no you felt the swirling cosmos inside of you. It was an unexplainable experience, the closest thing to an description was more like barely nonsensical phrases slapped together. It was... not exactly wonderful but it certainly felt similar. You felt like something that should. The wind was coursing through as the "eyes" looked down on you.
Before you even knew it you hold already sculpted your essence of being. The "eyes" were judging and critiquing the contour, form, shape, every movement of your ever ever expanding creation.
It had numerous features. As if an artist working on it decided to add and differentiate details representing every single day, taking hours out of their own and their soul.
It perfectly described everything about you if thought about enough.
Every emotion you felt in your life was there.
Every moral code you've made, kept, and discarded.
Every sleeping dreams and daydreams.
Everything was reflected on that ethereal surface.
Even your intelligence was there.
It was an masterpiece and it seemed like the others agreed. You can hear the applause and adoration of hundreds. You look around before seeing them. The other architects. Several of them complimenting you and your creativity. It was your "Very Essence of The Soul" they proclaimed. You thought about it, it would make for an good display name. You said it's name and many agreed. They guided your way out but you could've sworn they carved your name in somewhere.
As you walked upon The Garden of The Mind. You realize that the multi colored sky it's very being was the universal brilliance. The wonder and ingenuity of life, death, really everything could all be found on that little sky full of color. You looked out once more around and noticed that there's countless structures, you realized it's must have been others. Some even more brilliant then yours. As you walked and walked you could only be entranced. Even if you weren't of artistic or philosophical nature you had to agree. The Garden of The Mind's art was wonderful. You didn't realized you were at it's very center. There you saw two art pieces accompanied by mildly sad music.
One had evoked you had never felt. It was so... melancholic yet whimsical. That flow inside of you grew.
The other had sparked your muse with an nature that Alice In Wonderland would be jealous of.
You looked at their names.
"Maybe One Day This Will Be Just Another Memory." - An Cerulean Slate
"Our Laments" - The Lukewarm Sight
Maybe you would've ignored or laughed at the names were it another day. But all you could feel was respect for it, for them. You felt like you're finally finished. Finally done with exploring this place. You had seen every single artwork "bad" and "good". You remember this place fondly. Very fondly. You smiled before you felt yourself leaving.
You found yourself right in front of an building right next to an crosswalk. Looking through the glass there's about an dozen armed men with while coats. You saw the door handle right as they saw you.
You put forth your hand and began to open.
