The Isle of Blessed.
It is the Western edge of the earth, near a stream known as Oceanus I drift in out of consciousness, half asleep, unaware of where I am,,and yet I know..it is the Isle of blessed. Golden light is the fabric of this place,flowers of wonder,simple,adorning and sensual. similar but not quiet like the photographs show…it is the Isles of blessed.
A clear peach and lavender sky which is the sun. The murmur of a thousand insects as they scurry around doing their duty. It is like the literary texts say..yet is different..It is the Isle of blessed. An awe inspiring tune played by cherubs and musical doves engulfs me. It reminds me of the paintings I have seen of this place..and yet it does not…It is the Isle of blessed.
Everything is serene and real..more real then where i come from in fact,and I ponder upon this reality..it is the Isle of blessed. I find a soft robe of silver and gold thread, its fabric light and airy to the touch, a wind that is not the wind gently caresses my face, I have been here before, am I home I ask?..it is the Isle of blessed. I know this place..a lot of us do..we come from here and some will return..I remember now..I knew it as something else…it is the Elysian fields.
I wrote this and wanted the actor Brian to narrate it for me…Unfortunately he was too busy.