Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Entering Eden



Ever Even’s
enlightening escapades
in the great green garden.

“O” note:
Let us just gently say that Ever’s nimble and bouncy brain is a bit dimly lit, though her heavy heart is as bright as deep-night star shine. Her hasty and imprudent assumptions brazenly defy reality, but eventually she bumbles into the hard truth. Slide, glide. Up, down, right, left, right, wrong, turn around. Slide, glide. Side to side. As with every tiny dancer, perfect balance is her aim.

Will she ever get even?

***
At the moment…
Twilight seeps into profound purple as our befuddled heroine, Ever Even, is whisked back into Eden’s muted origins.

***
Here in the cool darkness, drifting upside down and backwards, I briefly consider my particular perplexities. What! What? Where? How? Why Now? Why me? These little naggers are odiously preponderant and would overwhelm me if I paid them the least heed.
TA TA.

Who says you can't go backwards and inverted? Who, indeed? Am I not easing into the entwined vaults of
Eden just so? I do sense I am sailing solo in the verdant vapor. But, no worry. Who needs a partner? Don't they always push forward? After all, am I not the original brain dancer? I am so adept at dancing with myself I hardly notice the vacuum. Reverse is my natural mode and moon phase is my time zone.

Speaking of two steps, I am beginning to make out my feet through the misty swirl. Here in
Eden they are tiny split hooves...sort of up-turned on the tip, like what you'd find on an elegant gazelle, or maybe a piglet. Definitely not a fox. I might have to consider some polish. Something subtle, like pale puce. Don't want to foot-fright the fauna first off. The flora can take care of itself (itselves?). TA TA.
Nonetheless, my little prissers definitely need some spit and shine.

My hands seem to be missing. Oh well, TA TA. Where have those prissy, pointy pinchers, gotten to? I am more than fond of my fingers and things might be troublesome without their perky presence.

One thing I can see is the foliage and it is lush and chaotic. A bit gaudy, but strangely enticing in a primal sort of way. What ever could be lurking in those bushes? I think I am going to be right at home here. Even though I have an impressively deep reservoir of Irish gloom to tide me over the random joys and exultations of an ordinary life, I am prepared to await with abiding anticipation and open optimism whatever befalls me in this gargantuan green garden.


“O” note:
Ever is over fond of alliteration…it’s the pesky poet in her.

OMG - She alliterates all over Eden.

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