Page 69
By Jack Joseph Smith
a-fate drawing him down past the back pages of a
last time. But the new inner vision was changing,
the colors dancing from the body of red into up-
ward curves of laser like white beams developing
as a space haloed message before a streaming en-
hancement of pinkness. And the opaqueness of the
ball, like the former dot of darkness in struggle
below the sun, was changing. But unfamiliar to the
dot, the ball was beginning to exude a purplesrange
hue; like a million emerging rainbowed atoms arched
together in strive for brilliant life. It was the same
earth, the dream was coming out of illusion.
From a huge
stillness in the radiant distance, at the opposite
end of his approach, the violet light half haloed
the now worldly whirling ball. Reflected rays broke
at the boundary of atmosphere, and he went with winds
flow forming pocket patterns of reasonable color.
Between the clouds warm vapor drowned him
into an air of unconsciousness, and he found him-
self awake in a dead volcanic cavern of the Maui
mountains, remembering only, a great black rock, and
his gone brown paper bag.