Each person, in their own right, has a land of their very own…the way they see the world. Within each being there is a little voice and that voice paints our imaginations with beautiful or frightening images. Its collective thoughts are born of a thousand questions and countless memories.
Time and time again they say to me, “there she goes, to Saraland” and I blink back to reality to smile at them. It’s true. I will be gone and I don’t know for how long.
My eyes fall heavy and a waking sleep falls over me. In a wave of beautiful blurs, that which I stare at simply…disappears. It’s replaced by a desire. By a strong giant picking me up in his gleaming hands to see what the view is like looking down over it all. The walls of my mind swarm passed me and suddenly I am there, standing in a place where I am known the best.Trees emerge, shooting up around me like gleaming shooting stars across the sky. Thick vibrant vines race around them growing as one. I look up to see their arms branching out like protective canopies. Leaves crackle out of their buds, blossoming quickly into green flora that whisper secrets in its birth. They drop out of their uncurling bodies- tiny seeds, which land beside my bare feet. I reach my hand down to them, but the soil has accepted the gifts. Before I blink again, blossoms of beautiful lore spiral up from the ground, kissing my hands, curling up around my arms. They swallow me in their fragrant embrace.
A beautiful lady dressed in flowing lace walks to me. Nude flowers lay, aged in her long curls. She reaches her arms out to me with silent eyes that sparkle like a reflection of the most beautiful sunset on dark, rippling water. Her smile matches the wonder in my heart and calls a beckoning for me to dance.
But here, even with all the most stunning creatures, in their mystery there is darkness still. If I am not careful, I can trip on the roots of these glorious trees and their protective canopies can carve wicked betraying masks into the bark. Laughing evils taunt at me in the innermost, dark woods of my soul. For nothing is good, nor bad alone. They intertwine in lush tapestries. They shift and move in wondrous melodies.
And here in this enchanted land I am welcomed as their lady, as their lover, as their hero. In the dark corners of the forest, I am also feared and am even their enemy.
This land is where I am me, purely. It is where my imagination roams uninhibited. Each person has a room of their own, up their own wonderfully crafted stairways. Here and there (hopefully), we may see glimpses of others lands. These are the places where the walls fall away and we can live creatively free.
