I sit and realize I’ve mounted the back of a Phoenix, the roaring of the fire shudders round me, groaning in its power, the vibrations running through my bones and rattling in my ears.
I feel it’s take off, the force as the ground moves away, my body pushed back as my stomach swirls with every turn. The mighty wings stretching out, far into the air around me.
I watch as the ground gets further and further away. The houses and people below like dots on a canvas. The higher we get the clearer the picture becomes. Dots give way to patchwork blankets, reminiscent of summer days, the sun, soft breezes and happy languid moments full of laughter.
Open fields and forests where my heart yearns to be with those I treasure.
Those blankets moving on to become enormous boots lying strewn by careless giants, their footprints edged into the land, simple lakes and streams to those left below.
From above I see their traces, their marks. The places they’ve been. Their mathematical paper planning, on the landscapes of the earth beneath our feet. Pie charts made by swirls and circles of colour, marked by reds and yellows, browns and greens streaked through by the paths of us mere mortals.
Fire strewn patches where dragons have played, boisterous youngsters pushing dirt into enormous piles of ground which form our mountains. I see their claw marks as they’ve dodged and fought in the fashion of little boys.
We soar further, the ground so far below, the wind dipping and edging us closer to our destination. The pictures change and I see a giant Picasso painting below. The world a mesh of colours in twisted shapes all blended and perfectly formed. A complimenting kaleidoscope of colours.
Small river bends and ponds on top of mountains make me wonder, how many tiny feet have waded in the waters, how many lovers have lain by their shores.
We begin to descend, the view fading back into the world I know, where it’s us alone and the mysteries of that magical world become once again unseen.