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Tinyfish
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Rainland
The world is made of many pages
And every page contains a world
We flicker through them in the daytime
But in the night become unfurled
Hey -- the past is gone
And only rain
Will linger on
A mirror bright
In a dream
Shining red
A land of rain
Shaping me --
A sheet of light
In a stream
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In my head
A land of rain
Taking me --
I am the maker of my promise
I am the dreamer of my day
This unmade thing that overtakes me
Has multiplied and got away
It was the power of creation. That's what I was searching for.
The answer was as simple as sleeping between two mirrors; dreams reflected back and forth between a million worlds, refined and concentrated into ideas -- as much of creation as can be contained inside a human skull.
At first, the dream made no sense to me. Red like a fire engine, covered in ugly bolts -- then the subtlety of the design came through; the way it mirrored my thoughts, my mind, the process that created it -- I was mesmerised by the flow and the intricacy until it filled my whole understanding.
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