A World Beyond Worlds

I am running through a forest of flowers.
Tiny watery fish flicker as candle flame.
They are singing nursery rhymes.
I hold a crystal sphere as a marble,
And flick it through the undergrowth,
To collide with its target; the Earth, on gravel.
"It is not real," a decorated jester whispers to me seriously.
He hands me the holy grail and I accept.
Thousands of tiny faces melt across its golden surface singing,
"Mary Mary, quite contrary."
The jester juggles the two lawn balls,
Earth and moon, and holds them out to me.
He asks wryly, "How does your garden grow?"
And I choose.