<p>You smell the blooming of blossoms, gold streaks sparking off<br />
white petals; it is the smell of new<br />
life, of impossible bliss.<br />
You turn to touch the flaming light</p>
Close your eyes.
You are surrounded by a shield of light.
You reach out and it
curves under your fingers,
it hums softly where you touch it,
welcoming you into its warm embrace.
The many conversations buzzing in your ears
have dimmed into a
pleasant
murmur.
You f l o a t;
the chair against your back disappears.
You feel magic around the corner instead, the dryad’s song guiding
you through a maze of gentle oaks.
You smell the blooming of blossoms, gold streaks sparking off
white petals; it is the smell of new
life, of impossible bliss.
You turn to touch the flaming light
of fireflies. You are drawn deeper into
the unfamiliar, but you feel only warmth, you see only wonder.
You smell the dewdrops glimmering outside your window
in the morning.
You lean back, shoulders dropped.
You feel warm, like the sun has accepted you as one of its own.
You smile.
Open your eyes.
You are safe here.