It’s a dream. It must be. It’s the place we go when we run out of space
In our real world.
It’s our dream world.
Convincing, but laced with inaccuracies.
A lowering sky,
Not one that confines us,
But conforms to us.
Lush green growth
Clings to impossibly vertical rock walls.
Seamlessly builds, expands, becomes
Sheer cliff faces drop swiftly into farmland
And drown in crisp clear alpine water,
And it all seems
A mirror image
Of our world here-
Conducting from the right,
But maneuvering from the left.
Adrift, ill-fit, we split.