Once upon a time and a very good time it was, said a purple voice.Everywhere there was to walk, he walked and danced and jumped; everything there was to see, he saw with smiling eyes. He dreamed in dreaming, sang to the moths, spoke to the trees, leaped along the rainbows, and when the dreaming giants laughed, he laughed too, laughed for joy. There was joy in making and joy in doing, joy in all of life and joy in dreaming, and all of it, all of it to share.
On the day the earth shook and cracked, the day the ravens went away and all who walked and danced and made and shared stood under the firefly sky and sang, he sang too, sang as the giants slipped awake and a purple dusk flickered in his eyes. Every love story, said a laughing voice, is a ghost story. He smiled and closed his eyes to listen; he swam in endless gentle purple; he listens to the stories the familiar voice tells, and is comforted. Silence is love just as your raspy voice is a bird.
Do you miss home? You can go back there, but you can never really go back there, says the voice, and he sighs, sighs in purple, turns away, turns elsewhere. He is confined now, wrapped tight in something, but soon, soon there will be new places to walk, new songs to sing, new voices to hear.
New dreams to dream. Dreams in purple and in all the colors that are, in red and gold, in sun and water and sky.
He is ready. He is ready.
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME, sings the voice, and he slips from one dream towards another. He is ready.
HURRY UP PLEASE
IT'S TIME