Realm
What if
the clouds were our home
the sky our roads
the stars our friends
the lightning our bedside lamp
the rumble of thunder our love song
the night our bed
the moon our dream
the sun our hope…
Would it really be different?
Once, Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering around, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn't know he was Zhuang Zhou. Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuang Zhou. But he didn't know if he was Zhaung Zhou who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterlfy dreaming he was Zhuang Zhou.
