My World

In the world that I come from the grass is rarely green and the sky is anything but blue. Flamingos dance by on roller skates and gophers are the ones who climb the highest mountains. Four moons thread their ways across the horizon, each taking their turn, marching an endless parade across the sky. Flowers exotic in nature grow commonplace in my world. Purple polka dotted daisies and yellow and orange striped dandelions pave the roads where no cars dare tread. Instead the people ride silly looking giraffes, each giraffe in a different pattern, some plaid, some speckled, but not one of them is the same. Everyone in my world wears a top hat, and a dress jacket with very long tails, almost a dress code, but not quite. I would have to say that everyone looks quite smashing in a top hat and tails, so it is only reasonable that people would want to wear them. This dress applies to the animals as well. Every day I’ll see a tiger prance around town in a stylish suit, tipping his hat to me as I pass. In my world the animals talk, one of our greatest philosophers is a duck, and you can see our kangaroo crossing guard, directing the giraffes through town. We all get along with the nicest of harmony.

When I wake up each morning, I may see a monkey cleaning my windows, or maybe a spider knitting a sparkling scarf. Perhaps, I will wake up to the whisper of a dragonfly on my ear, gently mumbling secrets that I do not understand. During some point in the morning I’ll roll lazily in my bed and nuzzle my face in the warm mane of a lion next to me, trying to find sleep once again. Finally, the silver chiming of a clock awakens me and I take my daily stroll. Wading through the knee-high tiger lily sidewalk, I pass zebras discussing music with warthogs, and I know each of them by name. After a time I return to my home to rest before the festival later tonight.

The time has come; the chants of drums rise out of the streets and drift through my windows to awaken me. Rising from my bed and approaching the window, I see that our quiet village has been transformed. Paper lanterns sway upon threads of string, each omitting a soft purple glow. The streets have come alive, both people and animals crowd the alleys. Above the lights, green stars perform their intricate dance across the red night sky. Endlessly they dance on, capturing my eyes in their depths, until I find myself standing alone in the middle of the streets. Confetti has found the end to their excited decent, now on the ground while hedgehogs crawl along the curb, nibbling silently on tulips. The lights in the windows have all been extinguished. I discover myself standing in a spotlight of an amber moon as if it were awaiting my performance. I spread my arms, taking in the soft glow, as if it were my very breath. Closing my eyes, I begin to feel that glow within myself. Inching its way through my veins, I’m overtaken by the glow until I’ve become the glow itself. Rising into the sky, I look down to my world and realize that my world has become myself.