Fire-Spark O’ the Wilds,
my 13th sister on my Muse’s dream side,
I bachata danced out of Universe’s womb
with ripe strawberries for eyes.
My flesh mother tried to strawberry-gouge me,
but I flashed her my first Third Eye glare
and she ran screaming out of the birthing pond;
the Midwife freed my umbilicus
with a single bursting shot
of her trusty carbine—
12.6 mothers had ran out on her before,
so the child-whisperer was ready.
Of course I wasn’t born knowing
that I wanted to be an astronaut!
What kind of skullduggery is that?
Rocketing to that cosmic level of highness
didn’t brightened my berries
until the eventide Polka-Dotted Fox softly shrieked,
“An ocean brews at the end of the galaxy,
waiting for a Wild Dancer.”
I jumped on my rocket ship,
opened all my eyes… opened them again,
and dreamed myself up, Scotty.
Worried the fox might have tricked me?
wild things never lie.
(Kerry’s Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ In Other Words)…
Hopi Dream “The Royalty”, acrylic on board, by Peca Fine Art