I would advise the reader to look up this photograph for this poem @: http://www.picassomio.com/art/3263/en/ Excerpted from the Detailed Description: “…photographs were taken over time…across Africa and Asia…Each image works at the same time in its individual right as a unique story. Its interpretation is open to the spectator who becomes co-author, and who broadens and or completes the voyage with their view.” She is color-blind dreaming, and her focus is blurred - everything in her peripheral is dangling by cornered twig eye lacerations, oblique in her blind spots, and the rough tree climb she braced for, felt like water soaked through the bark heavily when she haled her way up and up the trunk. She first looked to the sky. The Oz ceiling appeared to be quite encompassed with frustrations where the blanketed overcast lie flat on its back on the ebony horizon. Other parts of the sky were showing their sheet of mist, with the sun gaping through it’s teeth, settled and diluted by the fog. She is going to walk on this plain of sorts, whether it be water or sand or a morrow, all the way straight into it’s very eternity: a procession that might go until the clock runs dry if she just keeps on…. Note: This is a huge metaphor…or it can simply be read as my personal interpretation of this scene.