You and I, pursed lips - parched and thirsty on bare rock.
A dreamscape - Aboriginal painting on time-carved walls.
Ground stone pigment Eden.
A flower bursts from spit and powder,
man creates. He builds the sky and birds.
Trees tower as a dusty smear leaves his thumb.
Oh what a pleasant world. A vibrant vision of love.
A pale golden sun’s outline, warm and fuzzy.
The creatures too - bold shapes in grey clay and ground dark brown.
Painted beside us, and with us amongst the flowers,
beneath the warm, fuzzy sun.
Our dream preserved from wind and rain.
Precious, timeless beauty.
The lightning dances over our heads in bright, sparking roots.
But never touch us.
Millenia go by, a thousand years becomes like merely a day.
You and I, a dream, an ethereal vision.
With pursed lips - parched and thirsty in our ground stone pigment Eden.
Until We Wake.
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