Raging seas and inky skies, a wave barrels down on my small fishing boat, and where am I? I am helplessly clinging to my meager wooden craft. The indigo swell crashes down on my maple-wood vessel, capsizing it. O ocean! Spare me from your horrible punishment, for I am sailing to Paradise, where the golden sun sits like a saucer of yellow milk in the robin’s egg-blue sky; where the cherry-red flowers smell sweeter than an afternoon on a calm summer’s day, where there is no conflict, where all is peace. The sky bursts into color, lavender mixing with emerald in the snowy clouds. The amber sun...
