...may we do and see and BE
whatever we want to believe.
We can hover above the grassy ground
whose bright yellowish color is rarely found
in reality;
we can release
cloudy bursts of red
smoke-like substance which floats up around the head
and sends us further into the dream,
clouding the mind
stopping time;
for nothing is as it seems,
and that's alright with me.
Sorry this poem is a bit crazy :)
