Wicked Land

Cube by Bullion Grey

Wicked Land Dreams:


Qube floated down that silent stream riding on a green leaf. Dahlia was blossoming and had the air of graceful warmth as was a symbol of what it meant to be female.

But no one knew where the Mole was digging it’s deeper and deeper hole. No one cared to find out what the mole knew, or didn’t know. The mole carried about it’s daily dig, in pursuit of nursing morsels of Life.

A fern grew by the fountain’s edge appearing as a one plant a garden someone intends to love. To say that it sits hedging it’s life, one leg in one world, the other leg in another world mythologised it. It is the fern that grows between two worlds.

A white dove touches down on the center mantle of the fountain, sipping softly,clear, cool, water. Slowly it looks around to see this Aquarian conspiracy. Seeing that harvest has long been passed, and now leisure time at last, this it would be good, we would say, if this were our own day.

Beautiful music, harmonized about, without visual view, crowds of good traditions sought after for luck’s firefly. Color in lines and sound mature as more of the melody is heard, allowing for a construct so beautiful, yet so peacefully loving,certainly I could live here forever.

A wagon pulls up on the other side, is the symbol of the man who’ll take me on my ride. I reluctantly stand and head towards the steps. All of a sudden I notice above the darkest sky, and temperatures dropped, I can see my sighs. The man he whistles and whips horses - jostles to start, soon on his journey.

As I open my eyes, my cat is in the window, staring outside, and its five in the morning...
and my dream becomes a memory.


"During the night, when the conscious mind is asleep,the heart is able to tell the story."
---Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee