Strolling along cobbled byways and breezy hillsides,
Contemplating colour and texture as ways to travel inwards,
Funnelling your senses into finding the essence of the woodland,
Creating scenes of passion under the mauve illusions of a storm,
Waiting for the airy shutters to blow out a pool of fantasies,
Forgetting the traps of the cardboard life amongst the jungle,
Building a tower where sleeps a maiden of spring fire and daisy song,
Observing the whirlpool expanse of a glittery existence in the clouds,
Shedding the blossom and sprinkling it upon a mirrored lake,
Merging with the bustle of tiny existence’s chattering in the shadows,
Filling yourself with the natural sweetness of unconsumed beauty,
Seeing further through the pearl-dropped web without catching the fly,
Floating on the hopes and dreams of the silver seraphim’s,
Wading through the shady grasslands, puffing out the dandelions,
Experiencing the pristine and timeless melody of all that we are.