Scenes from a life. Mine. Not unlike yours. The sun peeking through my kitchen window. It prisms, and cascades color over everything. Who would have thought a toaster could be so beautiful.
My floor becomes a yellow brick road. My calendar from the Thai take-out an illuminated manuscript. That, and all of my meds lined up, and lighted from within.
'Almost makes waking up worthwhile.
I remember lying in bed as a child, and listening. The branches outside my window heaved like the ocean. The house creaked, and moaned like a ship. My curtains billowing like sails.
I slipped into sleep. Into deep deep dreams. Dreams of brigantines sailing seas of green gems, and skies full of shooting stars.
They are all we are.
They are all we have.