A peaceful walk on a Tuesday morning

Lost from the familiar path,
Wandering aimless in fragments of
A long lost dream.

Swearing that the muses were
Whispering in his ear,
Revealing the secrets of language.

Personification gone mad.
Freshwater tears on cotton skulls.
Dryad arbor praying for rain.

For that brief moment,
Time is still and life has
Revealed her sacred secrets.

The familiar road injects into view,
and the songs of silence
Are heard once more.