Every so often I step through that door
And take stock of what I've got
Pretty little things that don't make sense
But are great fun to me.

For example, I imagine
Mist speckled with silver, shimmering each time the wind picks up
Warping and swaying with the breeze.
It blankets a field of white grasses.

Another holds a grove
With electric blue leaves screaming on the hills
Shuddering and flashing with energy
Catching the wind.

In continuation
I made a deep charcoal ravine
Far down flows glowing purple lava
Carving out a riverbed far below
Thick, deadly, enrapturing.

But I can't forget green
Everything back home comes in green
The night sky in my mind
Is the deepest, blackest emerald
With stars piercing through the velvet.

The more I imagine the deeper I go
So then I make
Clouds thick and vaporous
Rumbling and yellow
Orange lightning flashes and strikes
Against the inky black sea
Golden fish flickering like candles within.

Perhaps its silly
But one say I hope to see it again.

Sometimes I get an impression
A hint of what I could have
A small stone wet from the ocean
Or the color of my favorite sweatshirt

Maybe one day I could see it in the flesh.