THROUGH REALMS AND VISTAS


The bed is warm and the room doesn't frighten. But there is movement on the stairs and the window is narrow. The door slams and the footsteps are gentle, a child stumbles and a mother glistens. We are moving through realms and vistas, always moving through realms and vistas. Trees scatter and the pond is still. There is a scream in the distance and there is a rumble closer than needed. You hold up your hand towards the blue sky. You splay your fingers and watch the sun dance through the gaps. Your face is in movement from the sun, stars and moon. They dance upon your cheek and brow, they whisper to your ear, and stroke your nervous throat. These are the realms and vistas, always within the realms and vistas. The window vibrates and the door opens wide with a creak. You whisper the numbers and words, you mumble the names and symbols. It is with significance and direction that you walk the pathway between ocean and beach, between mountain and sky, between desert and purgatory. With music slow, music of ambient currents, you dance with intent and calm deliberation through the tall grass. You make no paths, you tread no flowers, you seem as if afloat, you seem as transient as a ghost stepping through walls and chambers. You are sliding through realms and vistas, always sliding through realms and vistas.

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