a man went inside a cave in his mind. he came face to face with a gecko-headed dragon.
its fiery head alone was the size of a sixteen-wheeler, and its eyes were like great pools of iridescent oil slick. it stood towering over the man like a column of parthenon. its tongue slid up the side of its face to plop on one of its round, blank eyes, and disappeared back into its mouth-- a thin line across its entire face, reminiscent of a smile.
"who are you?" the man asked.
the gecko-dragon clucked once.
"you," it said. "you. you-ck. you-eck-eck-eck." ...
who knew joy came in the form of little green shoots?
sometimes the waiting is hard. in all these in-between moments, when the wind quiets and the water settles, my head sinks down into where all the doubt and fear have sedimented.
and there, as time slows down, everything else in my mind speeds up. what if the seeds don't take? what if there are pests? is this enough light? is this too much light? am i giving enough water? am i giving too much? why is this taking so long?
(and i look at the calendar; only three days have passed)