We were all placed on a barren world.
There's no magic, no adventure.
We could walk for miles
staring at the paved roads
and never run into a single elf, orc, or fairy.
Maybe we'd have a little excitement:
Perhaps we'd find an old coin,
bent and rusty,
a treasure from the past.
We would discover
the secret past of the coin.
The names of all who held it,
all who rubbed it for good luck.
And be enchanted by the splendor
that a story can bring us.
But we wouldn't be looking down.
We would be driven
by a wanderlust so strong
that we would be staring up.
Gazing at the clouds,
guessing at the infinite number of times
that they had circled the globe.
Imagining their crevasses and rills
as a mirror image of this terrestrial world.
It'll be a gateway to adventure
and all we need is the key.
Native wanderers to an ever-changing island,
full of new mysteries to explore.
Searching for ancient treasure,
much more precious than the old coin
which would pass unnoticed beneath our feet.
Perhaps we would be farmers,
ameliorating the fertile sky,
plowing the clouds into straight rows
and seeding them with dreams
that would blossom into memories.
When it becomes sunset,
We would swim in crimson pools of fire
and liquid gold
and violet velvet.
It would be a kaleidoscope
of raw emotions and thoughts
lighter than air
Greater than even we could imagine.
We'd discover new planets that never existed
with strange inhabitants:
Spiders with pink cotton candy webs
weaving across the vast, eternal sphere.
Trekking across these dreamscapes,
we would fill our thirst for adventure.
But we wouldn't be finished yet.
Inch by inch, night would fall,
dragging the moon out of hiding
and signaling the stars to appear.
With only candles and fireflies
to light our way,
we'd plunge into the shadows of our hearts
and uproot any sorrows.
We'd be left torn and broken,
yet healed beyond measure.
The clouds would have been blown
by the strengthening winds of faith,
and we would marvel at the heavens,
bespeckled with pinholes of light.
We'd twirl and dance
and holler in the joy of it all.
Then we'd settle down and dream.
Dream of a glass world
made of sunlight and shadow.
Grayscale rainbows arching above us.
We would mummer in the halo of moonlight
and startle at our demon-like faces
cast by the light of our candles.
Then sleep would come
and we'd sleep the warm, peaceful sleep
of a time-worn traveler
of the mind.
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