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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A Magical Trip to The Garden of Eden By Dane Smith-Johnsen I hold three magic rocks, in my hand Rolling them over and over and over Leaving this reality behind, far behind I find myself in a field of clover. The stars above illuminate the land. But the air has an unfamiliar stench. I find myself barely able to breathe. And my muscles spasmodically wrench. There, in the distance I see a great shape. I want to run, but frozen with fear, I hesitate. Tyrannosaurus Rex moves, shaking the ground. I see dinosaurs all around. Oh, God! What fate waits? Suddenly ten raptors run through the clover. Hunting together they smell my scent. Three magic rocks in my hand, rolling over and over. Please help! To another place and time I must be sent. Because the air that I gasp has the essence of methane, How will I breathe on the earth in this state? Had I arrived before our planet was ready? No man could survive this; would my life abate? Gasping, and hiding, with three magic rocks, I began rolling them over and over and over again. My head in a spin was whirled as the wind. There, in grayness. I heard “When you are acclimated, adventure will begin!” Alas, fresh air. I while floating somewhere was grasping. It was a peaceful place and being there, I was free from fright. Then, I was wisped off again, to a paradise where God was. Jehovah and Adam in the Garden of Eden. Oh, glorious sight. I felt like a girl in wonderland, Where answers to dreams had come true. God was forming and showing; Adam gave names. There, in stillness, I watched those two.
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