Ethereal, realism, hazing through a reality that was born from the dreams of dragon flies and talking flowers.
Roses sing. Daisies muse. Yet, in the end, the violets are always true,
True in song and in rhyme, always singing forever, for neither a dream, nor a dime.
So do I wonder through wonderland, not defined through logic nor idiocy, determined by color’s complexity.
Do I see reason in rhythm nor rhyme? That would depend upon the dodo, neither died nor dye?
Strong are his wings, majestic and fair, with no path followed. His wings the color of a festival’s fair.
Yet now does my journey begin.
Strode upon thy Bandersnatche’s skin,
On do I gallop, never tired nor sore.
To the Jabberwocky I ride. Neither in book nor lore!
Vorpal sword do I strike and slash, show me thy power.
Off with his head! Just one gash!
Long live the white queen, in this magical place, so different from her sister, so fair, such grace.
Off with her head!!! Now do I say!!!
Shoosh, be quiet, live long, or pay…
Wonderland has no beginning nor end, running in circles I am, from either end or end!?
Long do I yearn for sought release! I do wonder if it is to be given, when the Mad Hatter finds peace?
Crazy they call him, misunderstood at best, look past his mask tis but a mere test.
Long do I stare, entranced by green forest eyes. He brings contentment, merely give in to his well rehearsed guise!
Wonder do I wander through this entrapping place,
Never to find release from my minds sweet embrace.
So do I ponder, forever trapped.
Sweet, sweet wonderland. How I long to wake from this napped.