as clear as the maps drawn together from all the remembered and forgotten bodies of those he explored : witches , goddesses , mothers , innocents ... he beholds with his minds eye , his heart , his soulhe observes the first and endless landings on the other far-away side : tiny boats , like bugs adrift on a fallen leaf , bobbing , being led ... santa maria , she conjuring their dreams , they swarming onto lands hot and steamy , fabled to be with riches of gold , finding ready servants , slaves among the naked and oddly clothes peoples ... imaginary people , ones not of the dream , not marias children ... soon , she is pregnant , this holy land , populating with children of her dream ... the first fated to firmly beach in the northern cold clime : unkind , rejecting , nevertheless , they land with and because of her dreamerrand into the wilderness !