The sound of a beating drum
echoes across the hills
in the pounding of heavily booted feet
against the rocky ground

A leader dressed
in red, blue, black
winding, delicate strips of golden embellishment
pushing forward, onward

A line of misfits traveling together
linked by skinny arms
and who they differ
from the rest of the world

Now a crowd
the force of youthful heroes
begins to swell
growing, pulsing, living

The dark of night cascades down the open sky
their bodies tired
limbs aching for rest they curl
around the jagged edges of moss covered stones

The first light of dawn
is greeted by outstretched arms and flailing arms
as tiny feet leave the ground
when their senses scream for them to stop at the edge

They swim in the open air
flying forward
searching for something
a place where their feet don’t touch the ground

The golden light hitting their faces
as they leave the boundaries of their bodies
to live in the world of
imagination