ManicWorld Magazine

Beyond the fog-stained glass, a winding
trail of cobblestone loops unfurled—
unfurled into shadows, unfurled into hollows,
with pointy twigs like brittle fingers
reaching out from the underbrush,
reaching for my ankles, reaching out across the path,
urging me to follow.
A few steps in, a choice revealed itself
when the path diverged into two—
into two directions, into two unknowns.
As though I were spellbound,
I drifted deeper
into the route
where forest green grass shimmered like emeralds
under the warm embrace of the summer sunlight,
sunlight that brushed flora, sunlight that caught in the leaves.
Soft breeze tickled grass blades
as they swayed hazily.
A pool of water gleamed beside the path,
reflecting sunrays as though
it were nature’s mirror. It mirrored the skies,
it mirrored the birds in flight, it mirrored, briefly, my own face.
The light nearly blinded.
Yet beneath its glassy surface,
a city of insects climbed between bits of
dirt and winding roots. Their footsteps
rumbled the underground—a whispering pulse,
a booming ancient drum, a thunder of footsteps,
beneath the moss green skin of the earth, hidden
beneath the dancing sunlit ferns.