Lying down with the arc of my back against the mounds of earth, weaving my vertibrae over each bump and clump of grass, of dirt, I licked my index finger and drew a symbol in the sky. I watched as I made connection, and wherever my fingers pointed ripples eminated, and through their vortex I found myself sucked into a tunnel, sucked towards one bright light.
As I twised and turned through concave and convex, I awoke to a haze of brightness, I awoke and began to stare at the surgeons vest. Hurtling on a theatre trolley while doctors stitched together my brain, It appeared that I had been out cold for days, It appeared that I couldn't remember my name. As I leant up to ask what had happened, ripples formed and the vortex sucked me further in.
I was wrapped up in all the soft blankets the sun could offer,
I was cradled and lulled into a soft warm bed,
I awoke to the light of day,
I awoke with beauty inside my head.
