Oh whimsical me. Oh how I long to leave this earthly plane into the heavenly abyss of my sages. Into the presence of angels and saints, I can only imagine the glory. I imagine a pasture green and bright, shady and dim lit only by my guru’s light. I dance upon a cauldron of fairy dust in a magical world far from this harsh reality. In this magic I fly high into realms of blissful splendor. It is a world far from this school of hard knocks. It is a world in which I cruise carelessly about loaded with color my eyes are beholden, my ears adorned with musical delight, my soul ever so airy and light. It is a world I know exists in other realms, other planes, the saintly cosmos. It is a heavenly domain I crave and yearn for, long for, pray for. It cannot arrive soon enough. I sit with my guru at his feet in samadhi, I weep. I cry tears of joy, so very different than the tears of this physical earthly plain. I soak in this glory of bliss and the grace of such heavenly cosmos. Crayoned blooms caress my feet, the air wispy on my face, the sun warming my heart and soul. The elements in this heavenly abode so different than those I know. I imagine and have heard and seen only in my dreams such beauty and magnificence. I long to escape the physical realms of captivity to a place so much grander than this earth. I offer myself in entirety and know there is nothing more awesome than this.