Lighthouse
This is but one in a series of places I run to.
A place of candy-flossed, kitten-clad calm, a hideout and a fort made from blankets lit by the wonder of the new-ness of everything.
A dream-palace where patterned skylines draw down and scoop what is real from me to become a part of ‘more real realms’ beyond… what we think we see. This is an island of calm, a childish, playful place where the spark of innocence (still within me) pokes his new brow to the sun and bathes, lazy, in what really matters… silliness and divine childlike nakedness.
A place of candy-flossed, kitten-clad calm, a hideout and a fort made from blankets lit by the wonder of the new-ness of everything.
A dream-palace where patterned skylines draw down and scoop what is real from me to become a part of ‘more real realms’ beyond… what we think we see. This is an island of calm, a childish, playful place where the spark of innocence (still within me) pokes his new brow to the sun and bathes, lazy, in what really matters… silliness and divine childlike nakedness.
