My lighthouse was swallowed by the sea, and I found myself in a world,
where I had never been before. It was a vortex or sorts- a shining portal,
whose light bathed the crashing waves in an alien shade of indescribably brilliant,
warm, and lively luminance, deep purple, but thick with brightness and laced
with the semi-translucent shadows of lavender, from below. It was a world more real,
for me, and more friendly than the last,
but I didn't even feel the loss of my familiarity, the severance
of that common feeling of reality,
that we all seem to have, and measure time and happiness and comfort
as the difference between light and dark, because perhaps
I were in the wrong dimension, taken by the wrong parents,
walking and working under the wrong sky, breathing the wrong winds,
living the wrong unjustifiable lie,
the whole time.
I heard the calm cries, but more like dreamy sighs, of faceless turquoise seraphs,
or shifting shapes that seemed to change with my vision's adjustment
to the characteristics of that world of unearthly sensibility, all around me.
There were strings of neon blue, cerulean tendrils, that twisted and transformed,
changing shape and texture,
wrapping around my arms and legs, and eyes,
and tongue, but they did not bring me harm. Instead they tickled and changed me,
until I couldn't feel as I felt on earth, but instead, the indescribable feeling of freedom
in contentment, that drowned all of my senses. I could see no more
in the sight of our spectrum. I could no longer perceive the breaking and bending,
the peaking and swooping of colours, reflected and refracted,
but I could visualize, through whatever inhuman lenses had been crafted onto my pupils, the refined geometrical patterns
and barely-euclidean twists and turns
of a millennia-old world that men were not meant to see.
When I looked down, towards my shoes, I could not see my hands, nor my feet.
In fact, there seemed to be no connectivity between whatever force
were holding my optical receptors in place
and my physical
(if you could call it that)
presence.
I could see around, and behind, and between, and throughout the entirety,
around me- the ripe glades of unparalleled, otherworldly beauty, in flowers
(or at least the alternate dimensional counterpart to some kind of massive,
architecture that resembled flowers,) that bloomed high above the heavens,
high above the clouds, reaching peaks beyond the stars, which were also visible, larger
than those of earth, like frozen asteroids that lingered, shapely and circular,
beneath the ocean, and above me.
I could feel my heart beat no longer, in my chest, and the blood run, no longer, through my veins. My lungs stopped breathing (or they were gone, altogether,)
and the comforting dampness under my tongue, and throughout my mouth,
had been dried, however, not uncomfortably,
in this new plain,
of shimmering allure.
But throughout whatever manifestation I had taken, beyond the understanding that it were
no longer human- no longer compatible with that of earth- was a serene, soothing
perfume, an essence, visible,
dim green, and smelling faintly of lemon and pine, that seemed to cloud
my existence in a blanket of auric solitude.
And being, floating, existing, as a spirit, or a magnetic pulse,
or some kind of being (or non-being) that was far beyond
my comprehension, on this new, or rather, previously unexplored plain of reality,
of which I had become assimilated, and could look upon as a home, for the first time,
away from the damned world that had become a plague upon itself,
I came as close to the human prospect of tears as I could, in such a new form,
and I longed for you.
And I still long for you.
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