The Boulevard

There's a winding path, in- trodden by curious feet, where to those still not sleeping, a magical world unfolds its petals. Where an imagination beholds a realm of endless possibilities and enthrawling potential. A blanket of magic, letting only an innocence underneath. Allowing only those wisdoms so pure - not learned, not told and not circumed to denaturing with time or detachment with experience.

Those who divulge the powers it holds, do so with levity as they slide so effortlessly from this world to that. No tree is what is seems; leaves can sing and branches will dance. Water drops and off of petals, cures any dis-ease the mind may instate.
Sit, talk with and learn of life from the invisible instiracle who sits by the gurgling stream.

Boredom will not prevail no matter how small the area while they explore the infinite vastness of their own mind. No damage can be done to the soul all the while, this world pulls the lotus open bit by bit. What an advantage it must be, for an impression so true, to ring so clear. There would be not much more favourable than to maintain this ringing so clear, for as the slide gradually turns into a flight of stairs, there are fewer and fewer who dare to climb them.