What if the world could be the one I once lived in? I like this one just fine but there was a great exodus at some point and this world is missing genuinely important pieces of what made it so wonderful in the first place.
Like the King of the Sea. Where did He go? As a child, when I would walk with my feet in the surf I could hear his court. Let me explain, I knew then that the King of the Sea was no longer there but I could still hear the echoes from his court, just as I see the light from stars burned out and dead long ago. Today, the echoes are increasingly faded. My adult ears have become dulled but I also think the world is louder and the echoes ever older.
And where are the unicorns? Serious thinkers, taller than horses and a great deal more slender. I found their hoof prints when I was five or six, when we first moved to New Orleans. I saw her reflection at a park that was a swamp, the first swamp I had ever been to. Baby alligators and lily pads surrounded the wooden trail that was a raised bridge winding through heavy trees and screeching calls of creatures unknown. I saw her as I leaned over the bottom railing, too short to see the view everyone else did.
I saw her tracks first and then her lovely eyes. Her mane was the color of the moss hanging thick and rich from the trees. Her body was just a ghostly breathe against the wildly green terrain. And her eyes… There was something terrible and lonely in her eyes. I stared as hard as I could, trying to memorize her beauty, because I knew in that instant I would never see her again.
What happened to the dragons and monstrous wizards? The dragons who drew in smoke, exhaled flames to release pure fury? Where are the Wizards ? The guardians, rogue bandits and withdrawn manipulators?
Ah the world I remember. Sometimes I dream I am walking through a great hall of long ago. I am achy and homesick in this dream, remembering. As I walk, the brush of fine threaded fabric traces my legs and arms. Stone walls are bright as gold with sunlight baking them and I watch the dust dance in the rays. My hair is thick, jet black; my eyes are green and I am littler then now. I am wearing purple and I have a dragonfly tattooed on my upper right shoulder.
Does anyone else have this active of a childhood imagination and do you struggle in this adult world because that imagination has stayed through adulthood?
Like the King of the Sea. Where did He go? As a child, when I would walk with my feet in the surf I could hear his court. Let me explain, I knew then that the King of the Sea was no longer there but I could still hear the echoes from his court, just as I see the light from stars burned out and dead long ago. Today, the echoes are increasingly faded. My adult ears have become dulled but I also think the world is louder and the echoes ever older.
And where are the unicorns? Serious thinkers, taller than horses and a great deal more slender. I found their hoof prints when I was five or six, when we first moved to New Orleans. I saw her reflection at a park that was a swamp, the first swamp I had ever been to. Baby alligators and lily pads surrounded the wooden trail that was a raised bridge winding through heavy trees and screeching calls of creatures unknown. I saw her as I leaned over the bottom railing, too short to see the view everyone else did.
I saw her tracks first and then her lovely eyes. Her mane was the color of the moss hanging thick and rich from the trees. Her body was just a ghostly breathe against the wildly green terrain. And her eyes… There was something terrible and lonely in her eyes. I stared as hard as I could, trying to memorize her beauty, because I knew in that instant I would never see her again.
What happened to the dragons and monstrous wizards? The dragons who drew in smoke, exhaled flames to release pure fury? Where are the Wizards ? The guardians, rogue bandits and withdrawn manipulators?
Ah the world I remember. Sometimes I dream I am walking through a great hall of long ago. I am achy and homesick in this dream, remembering. As I walk, the brush of fine threaded fabric traces my legs and arms. Stone walls are bright as gold with sunlight baking them and I watch the dust dance in the rays. My hair is thick, jet black; my eyes are green and I am littler then now. I am wearing purple and I have a dragonfly tattooed on my upper right shoulder.
Does anyone else have this active of a childhood imagination and do you struggle in this adult world because that imagination has stayed through adulthood?
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