Flying Spaghetti Monster (final)

Once I dreamt that I left my room at night,
Not as a ghost, or a mindless mortal,
But as the flying spaghetti monster.

And where I went, I cannot say,
It’s a place where there are no streets,
And the clouds illuminate like sunshine.
And the sky is dark, twinkling with stars.
Rising above a silky smooth milk ocean,
Where Ambrosia grows on Lily pads.
And Nymphs bound to and fro,
With lyres in hands and lotus flowers in their hair,
In the midst of a Lilac forest, all around
Singing their songs to the Universe gods,
In which they were draped in stars that shine,
Spread sporadically in clusters and some apart,
In that ocean of gloomy darkness, twilight touched,
I saw the constellations embedded in the sky,
Moving their ghostly wisping movements slightly,
And they noticed me there, flying around.
And they said to themselves,
“What a dreadful creature.”

And I woke up.

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