Fantasy-Land.
Fantasy-Land.

The world has no sight. The world has no sound.
Still - although you can no longer feel the ground beneath your feet -
the delicate tips of your fingers begin to warm.

Alone - and yet not - a voice melts through your body.

'Are you like me?
Or am I just like you?'

The slab unfurls, unravels, unwinds.
The air around you is weightless, inert -
a shadow across a shadow.

Your wrists warm,
your arms warm;

- it prepares -
to swallow you whole.

In 'Fantasy-Land' - in this world of all colors at once -
underneath it all... perhaps a 'human soul' did exist once.
Long ago, far and away, 'she' was given shape and form;

and as the sky-waters were divided from -below-,
so too did she find her lonely place.

As the fading curtain of the obelisk passes
through your skin, your senses are restored,
and so,

you lean down...
and take a closer look.