Fingertips adjust themselves, habituation, grazing living vivid green grass in my space of contentment. Toes wiggle in unison like gaping mouths of Church’s choirs uttering hymns to their Father and Mother’s. Daughters, Heliad, dance everywhere under the eye of their father, Helios. The shore-people call out to each other above in the skies in language spoken, misremembered.
I am a dreamer of dreams, polished shiny smooth like grains of sands brought together by the tide. A necklace of seashells strung on string is fit to equal a sea-goddess’s body-adornment of pearls and reflecting aquamarine. My heart is slowly conditioning itself through the mere exposure effect to accept the possibility of his existence in my life.
Bare-feet paths on sun-baked pebbles and stones mark my former location as I pause to face the wind and look at you inspecting subterranean sea-life housing development.