Revelations

Sometimes while I am asleep my mind distorts the images of the world I have captured within my soul. It takes them and makes them into beautiful moissaics that can not be explained. Inside each of these wonderful paintings I find intricate words, astound feelings and profound dreams....

In these paintings I can see a young girl, her cheeks are flushed from the cold biting at her round cheeks. Her coat drapes over her small frame and her bonnet covers her deliciously brunnet head. Her ballerina flats tip toe across an open garden and she smiles at the birds that sing through the snow. Her blithe laughter would warm the most algid of hearts.

I see myself in the little girl. The one who dances across the garden she is deep inside me somewhere begging to break lose but I hold on tighter with stalwart force. I must not let her escape for she is synoymous to all that is still human in me. As she touches everything with her gloved hand she melts the snow with a calming agitation. The white of the winter wonderland absconds into nothingness and leaves behind a green, indigenous, and native world.

This one like the last leaves mitigating effects prickiling upon my soft skin. The small girl stops and smells a handful of cardinal gerberas. In that small moment all of the world's happiness is contained in that little girl. The smile that plays upon the girls lips, her closed eyes as she intakes the fresh sweet scent that hipnotyzes her.

Her figure begins to transform, her height amplifies a bit, her hair grows past her shoulders and curls in waves. Her winter clothes transform into a strapless black and white polka-dotted dress. She walks barefoot through the immersed earth, she is happy among the green of the plants and the earthy colors of the canvas where she walks. It is her painting, her world, her distortion of reality. Here she is happy.

She dances to the end of the garden and a mirror arises from deep within the native earth. It is bounded in gold and its shine sparkles the garden like the rising sun. She looks within the mirror...

My reflection bestowes its eyes one me. I am that little girl in the snow, she is me and together we live inside my body fighting for reason or sentiments. I am that girl as she grows, and I know that inside she lives free spirited and reminds me of what humanity should be. She is my inner child and I her carrier, her messenger. She is me and I her...

Life in the garden never lasts very long, the light that shines from the mirror of truth brightens farther and farther until it reaches the end of the garden. It encircles my body and I feel myself detaching from such an entrancing world.

Finally all is dark, I can hear a trifiling beep from far away and brightness suddenly shines upon my eyes. I shut them again, morning came too soon and I wish nothing more than to return to my garden. The beeping does not stop and I dare myself to open my eyes again, this time the light does not harm them and my manicured hand reaches for the off button. I lay in my bed and look up at my ceiling, remembering the small girl, the garden, myself, and this morning.

A familiar smile plays upon my lips as I feel everything is possible and that today will be a good day...

Here Comes the Sun

Turururu

Here comes the sun...

Copyright Leonor Dias 7/31/10