A figure dressed in light, not vaporous, a solid man who flickers on and off he sees.
From the deep oceans light, Wayland sees and sends a whisper from his mind, the purple man is dreaming still among the many others of his kind. “Its time to wake now, of slumber is enough.
Zu needs to have its gardeners intact,
its time to plant the Iris bulbs to grow in pasture and in desert before the ice comes back.
Seeds of the rainbow must be sown on every track.
When summer dawns on frosted fields, fingers of warmth probing into the hearts of seeds that sleep, come now its time for growing.
When summer dawns on frosted fields, fingers of warmth probing
into cold frost hardened hearts. Awake, its time for knowing!”
The purple man in forest sees green light of yellow globe is shining energetically its light on all, and one with all he walks in joyful song.
Along a branch a leg is stretched, a long leg, there a person sits within the tree, smiling song of life,
“He's just like me!” the purple man does not intrude but curiosity is wakened as the man is standing tall and then is gone before his eyes of sight
.
A figure dressed in light, not vaporous, a solid man who flickers on and off he sees.