I believe in something.
There is another world,
vivid with green ink,
a watercolor that's still wet.
We float above it,
walking on wooden floors that wave in the breeze
like flags faded by the sunlight.
Wouldn't you love
to plant your feet on the solid ground,
to feel the coolness of earth seep into you?
I looked for a place where the worlds were held together,
a long, steel nail sent by a heavy hammer
through the wooden floor, deep into the dark, green earth,
and I found it,
delivered to me as I sat paralyzed:
Nuper Rosarum Flores.
It was then that I knew I would be able to cry.
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