Campiri

Blank pages sit, but they are not really blank. They are white, but they are not really white. I see them in my imaginary microscopic-viewing eye-scope, and they are composed of millions of little particles and every color of the rainbow. I can only see this from within my campiri, a magical place my deary.  

Basandrine

The night folds on itself and becomes morning. The morning sun burns off the morning dew and overexposes the blooming flowers. They shine bright then burst into millions of microscopic bits. They disappear to my eye, yet they still exist. I see them again when I close my eyes and they appear again in the basandrine. I can no longer believe what I have seen. 

Amagaloo

I was traveling the long road to my destination. The brush was blazing along the way, with millions of flitting sparks, like sun devils dancing. I think they were taunting me, or perhaps goading me on, on to my destination. I started skipping, then running, past it all. Over and through, to my enchanting Amagaloo.