poetry · writing

Have you found the door yet?

Have you walked through to the realm of improbabilities?
Have you drank tea with the sister of the marshal of the kitten parade?
Have you seen the valley of green lavender filled to the brim with song and sweetness?
Have you seen the honeysuckle maidens as they unfurl their sheets and sit upon the golden waves?

It is close.
You may travel by night or day.

At night, the sparkling stardust will dance before you in greeting as you walk through the door, and step upon the rolling hills.
At day, the sun and moon will hold hands and bow before you and lead you to the alchemist’s garden.

In her garden there is no green lavender. Only roses the color of a baby dragon’s fire.
She snips and grinds the thorns into a powder which turns river water into sweet wine.
If you collect the fallen petals and feed them to a dragon hatchling, the hatchling will belch up rubies and sapphires.

Have you found the door?

The alchemist is waiting and she has prepared wheat crackers and lemon cream for tea.
The alchemist is waiting for you to bring her a new basket.
Woven by the hands of a wood nymph after a long nap. They do better work when well rested.
She will fill the basket with roses and discarded dragon hatchling eggshells.

In time, fire stones will be made.
In time, she will teach you all she knows.

Have you found the door yet?

Walk through. The alchemist is are waiting.
Walk through. You have much to do.
Walk through.

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