A dream.
Archetypal fantasy.
The glow of ancient artistry.
Experience that alters their perception.
Here is there, but everything is different.
I am. But what I am is growing old.
Reality that comes in bits and pieces.
Atomized into some grand release.
A hero falling down the stairs.
A goddess unexplained in waves of air.
Damp and moist.
The mushrooms grow.
There was no choice.
The ceilings glowed.
In newborn variations of the past.
Another dream come round again.
In waves of an archetypal fantasy...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .