It’s a cerebral wanderlust
A trip through the Crown Chakra
Far lands casting deep rot iron ravines
Afoot sharp paper mountains

An endless dimly lit warehouse
A small party of long past relatives
Sit about and laugh
Just as a low laying tree branch appears
Through a small square
In an adobe wall

The faceless messenger arrives
With a piece of paper
That sings at stunning operatic levels
Then deflates to dust covered gardens
Growing laminated specters