Many writers and philosophers have made brilliant and erudite attempts to comprehend and court the ‘soul’ of imagination, but it remains a capricious creature, cultivated solely on its own terms. When, in rare moments, we are attended by one of its minions, it is a privilege to be treasured and shared. So, with barely more than what was given to me, this sixth drawing from my Codex Gastropoda series comes courtesy of The Snail Queen who crashed my dream with her little quatrains: I am of the water that flows through me Weaving my hair like the silk of the sea. Memories color my undulant waves Tales of seafarers, pirates and knaves But these are only artifacts of Time, Barely a ripple in this vast sublime. With purple-black ink I’ve filled my fine quill, Hungry for visions to appear at will. In your dreams I travel through phantom worlds Mining images that briefly unfurl Savoring some that speak to the ages Leaving others for you to grace your pages…