On lofty peaks horizons wide,
Challenges in silence sound
Looming thoughts through mists of time
Memorial leviathans stand round.

Thick fog envelopes thought and sight
Above the water still below,
In seeking stumble feared of plight
A weary chest heaves crumbling soul.

The journey ends yet now I’m shown,
All ways obscured in coming storm,
Where feet should find a path to home,
The compass spins, not polar drawn.

Unwilling thus to let it end
I step on, forward, then again.


Astral Projection

Astral projection became easier with practice, but she found that sometimes her dreams, and the projected reality she visited, became confused with the sounds of the world where she lay sleeping.
As she floated gracefully over the serene moonlit landscape below, she couldn’t help but dance along to The Ketchup Song.

Couldn’t resist this!

In response to Jane Doughtery’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge.