Magic mirror

I remember as a child my favourite place: it was behind my house, around big mountains, and the trees going down in a slope to drink like the cows in the stream. The place was planted with bananas, and exotic trees and there was a silent music vibrating everywhere. I was the flowing mirror of feeling and thoughts; I was a note of the universal chord. From a giant stone I could see the trees of mangoes expand in a line beside me and the slope was planted with rubber trees and some coffee and bananas and plantains with big leaves, and beyond there was a wood of bamboos and the stream. The place were alive with The hummingbirds and butterflies and insects were animated jewels, little spirits they were, living in the electric beams filling the space with supernatural radiance like the sound of the stream. It was a magic and exotic garden with the rhythm of nature and mind, ages and generations of fire and air and water, and feelings growing wild like living trees and mountains ascending high on the wing of birds, dancing in the wind around the radiant sun and the scents melting all senses, and the sleepy state when feelings feel themselves and get together in marriage with thought and compose the music of the world, and the greens turn into yellow and from yellow to red and blue, sleep turns into wakefulness, and desire into satisfaction. All was easy and the world was there, clear, transparent and new; in the leaves were articulated magic letters, the letters were trees, sentences were green constellations and the orchid the face of invisible suns. The heat was resting on the edge of the stream; the rain was an almondtree hair - in the palm of my hand stood a tree. He laughed and sang prophesies and their predictions were wings of parrots and macaws covering diaphanous spaces and there were birds called simple miracles; Everything was all. All were all, and in the fresh winds the day flowed like a river of murmuring leaves and birds like fish dancing in the waves of light with bright colours, strange forms, and in a spiral they ascended together singing above the web of light; The light runs everywhere and the water gets naked and jumps into itself. More naked than water. And the light is naked and looks into the water -More naked than a star. The bread is opened and the wind is spilled like wineblood. And the day grows and declines on water and in the face of the moon- see hear smell touch taste think_ together they link, dissolve and shrink; my body is the magic looking glass and every thought takes the natural colour and form.