I wake with out much humor, lost to the sleep of night, and the wild sea of dream. Often I watch at the edge of the vortex that has want of pulling me into Alice’s story. It’s my story, for the want of having what is mine, in the bubble and trouble that calls me to this world of fantasy. Washes me in to my blue lagoon, with a toss on to the sandy dream world of my making. Only my footprints give mark to this beach. Only my mind gives adventure to the call of the deep, dark jungle, a tangle of vines and wet, held to silence till my ears wake to a call of bird or beast.
The sound travels in like an inhale, fills me up with eyes wide open. I shiver to my imagination. The not alone, naked under the blue and sunshine, with the lick of the sea at my feet, gives a tremble of vulnerable, as a roar and caw of unseen life waits for my discovery.
Fully clothed at the jungles edge, no trace of footprints behind me. I hold the taste of ripe mango, and a rainbow of wings and claw sit on my shoulder. Some creature roars beyond my sight. A peck of a whisper, a distant meow that rises in repeat and repeat. With heavy eyes slow to open, all that I can hear is “Feed me, feed me now.”