Brief Author Bio:

I'm Eva Marie.
I'm just shy of eighteen.

Dancing on the backs of hopes and dreams, tiptoeing through the skies blue and wide, on lily pads cloud-like, shallow, yet deep, with all the thoughts you could ever please. Trees so tall that reach up to the heavens, drinking the warmth, the energy, the life, as they blossom with feathers, bright darts of every shade and hue that come forth to fly over the land. Water droplets plummet from above, their landing making more impact on universal functions than a being could ever possibly notice. Mist-covered mountain tops crest over the fog-dripped valleys, mystic energy lacing a lone eagle’s echoing cry.

Could you twirl your way through the puddles of soil scattered in the fields, amongst the sway of wildflowers so eagerly awaiting the kiss of sun? Can a laugh of pure joy resonate through the branches of elders’ buds, to a breeze carrying away the whispered frenzy of humanity’s farthest reaching wishes? Will the ocean’s drum beat happen upon the silent begging for wondered existence, standing on the wave-toppled shore?

The green lushness of a single blade of grass enthralls those for whom it is not the cities, the alleyways, the commonly traversed paths of the everyday. The inundation of media numbs the masses to such wonders of the natural world; could the brain washed please pull the headphones out of their ears, and listen to the frogs sing at night?

I want to float on the crescent moon as it pirouettes across the sky; what a view it must get! This insignificant speck of swirling, and blues, and greens; what was so perfect about this period of the universe is still here. You just can’t see it, as life rushes you down the sky-walk. And the walk is nothing like the experience of the sky.

[Semi-stream of consciousness]