This Night, This Womb

Lanterns on a black canvas. Fireflies dance, prance like ponies on a carousel. Ricocheting cricket-squeaks, Bounce among the frog-croaked airwaves; Bouncing from one wet tip to another. Spectral trees in the distance Dance their ancestral dance to this music; The heartbeat of the waves, keeping time; natures’ metronome. One hones the spirit to perfection here; In the bosom of Mother Natures’ womb. Touching life’s essence. Feeding the soul on the nourishment of Gods’ artwork. We never really leave the womb, you see. We only re-position ourselves and dream yet, another dream. No, we never really leave the womb.