Cacti in our garden

My cactus is trying to peer into the sky
And the whole world inhales zealously.
But do not understand him with a green heart,
That this world is made of smoke and fog.
His emotions are a hot-tempered song
His doubt is a zealous cold
They can’t cool in any way, even though they crack
The blind faith that someone needs.
He can smell the ghosts
He is a goal, as it is true, and not at all tingling.
He had a dream at night about a deer,
Where he was born into the world without needles.