I used to have great dreams of safaris.. of riding freely amongst giant creatures… they were friendly, mythical, amazing. The grass was so green and the sun shone brightest then.  I was to meet my fantasy-like heroes- the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters and the Toys R Us Giraffe.. I can remember the promise of things unimaginable.. the hope of freedom through audacious possibilities.. the innocence of a purely eternal love as a birthright… what life was like and could be like before the veil of pessimism was draped over my childhood and later on, adulthood.  I had once been on the bridge towards heaven’s playground where laughter was the music and the incense was the sacred union, the lovely flame between God and his children.  But the chariot I journeyed on was ransacked by the trolls of trauma, by blind beasts who hated their own hatred.  And the stirring unicorns and all things beautiful, that gracious eruption that is birthed by the lover who sees and the beloved observed, were drowned by a tsunami of rum… and the sun darkened forever on that beautifully slayed noon at the hands of the unspoken shadow of shame.