Blue

“Have you ever glimpsed upon the garden of dreams?”

I remember the voice in the clearing as the figure moved

Across the clouds, unfazed, passing from one mist to the other

In an astounding light. In the horizon, the sky was blinding, the

Sheer blue of it seeping through

In

Between

My

Fingers until it all conglomerated into a pool of infinity.

Perhaps blue is so vast that it is endless? That blue flowers

Do not, in truth, exist—even nature’s limitless

Boundaries cannot fathom the infinite blue?

And each time the voice rang, I recalled falling into the sky;

The deep blue embraced all memories I held—

It became warm. It became warmer than the scorching sun.