Memory

Your life is lightning in a bottle

When purple seeps onto your skin

You may lick yourself there where it abides in mockery and godly impatience

Rainbow is its taste

To your fingerpicks it is sandpaper

Growing ever rougher as you touch it

A strange sound is emitted from it like mermaid songs, days of old, whispering wind

Reaching deaf ears and transforming

Into a noise not quite heard, perceived in the slightest form of the nymphs

The sight of it changes every time you steal a glance

Now it shimmers, now it sparkles, now it hides in dull hues

It gives off a scent that attracts the fae

They flitter-flutter about your face

Only giving you a confused look as they turn to find something sweet off in the distance

He appears

The green elf of love, your guide through lands unknown

Your hand he grabs to pull you towards tornadoes and lands devoid of life

Here you find one plant

It spouts off fragments

Conversations that time forgot

“…I am the laughter without language…”

“…la vie bohème…”

Battle cries rise around you as you start to spin faster and faster into the darkness

Everything fades to white

In your study surrounded by fanciful books is where you find yourself this time

Something is wrong

No bird ballad here, no cricket chirp, no hummingbird heartbeat

Begin to see your fate

Begin to see the world

Begin to see surroundings

Begin to see that everything is not what you decide it should be but what it is by its own nature

Soon you will see all that was and understand what will be

When the dead tree flowers it is time