Dream World
The orb haven of summer.
This perfect park,
too green, becoming better
with every blink within the scene.
The grassy smell,
and perfect white-sun glow.
A halo of reality unfurled
within this dream world.
The distant poplar trees sway
to unseen, unfelt wind away.
The wooden creak, unheard.
No shadows, fogotten.
Vanishing point, vanished.
Inside the centre of this
clear glass universe,
around specks of ducks,
blur children,
beautiful play,
buzzing summers day insects,
the dreamer rides.
The focus of the lens.
As we float gently away
to the stochastic outer rim,
a grey point is reached.
A bounding range
beyond silent flitting birds
and free clouds,
where nothing exists
not even gravity
or perception.
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