Friday, February 17, 2012

A Wyrd Dream

I was in a huge stadium, miles wide, with only a few other people. There was a long road running through the seats, disappearing into the distance, and I was on it. This was my road and I knew I had to go it alone. Then ahead of me, I saw it, in front of the barrier that separated one section of seats from another: a bird-man creature, tall and lithe, with brown and white feathers, stretching as he awoke. I felt a pang of terror, but I didn't turn back or run away.

1 comment:

Pat said...

"Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention...it's a gift to the world and every being in it. Give us what you've got."(The War of Art, Steven Pressfield)