Outside
I lay on a futon
Seeping in the friendly cool breeze
dangling on my youthful face

Suddenly, a rapture of a voice rented the air
Like the ancient Nightengale's or the Vestal Virgin's
Her voice warbling, planting dreams of hope in my head

I heard her melodious voice and at once
Dances imprisoned my feet in intricate so complex to decode

Like the honey bees
I heard her rhythmic voice rhymed as lonesome couplets rapped in delicate acrostics.

And my heart leaped up in ectasy as blooming flowers
Visited by the rain in a desert
On an anti - summer night.

Comfort, the voice preached
For those who never give up
On their dreams
No matter how tough the struggles seem

In that mystical of nothingness
A rapture captured my mind
And the voices lost their sounds slowly
Like an acid fog clearing on the mud!

© Sir Melophile
© Tolani