I couldn’t see the ocean, I couldn’t see the waves.

I didn’t even know there were waves.

Just a blue blur, like paint splattered on a blank canvas

Tripping over nothing,

Catching something that wasn’t there

A trick of the mind it was.

Down the winding path I stroll, through woods dark

And deep, where mystery and magic roam.

A swift stream runs here; high above, a lark

Sings sweet and clear, in a voice that calls “home.”

Onwards, a low growl comes from some deep cave

there was a river/in the black hills/that my favorite trail followed/with pine trees lining

its banks/of hard ground and towering rocks//i would beg my father/to walk that trail/

as far as it went/as many days as i could//and as we walked he would/recite poems from

It’s been five days,

But more than five days have been accomplished

It doesn’t feel like years have past,

Only that the beginning seems like years ago

It’s time to leave, to another world

But the world we leave will never leave us