Muse of yonder laid me rapt,
faded in her nape 'twas the golden sun.
"Pull back the drapes and weave your path,
may thy wisdom reach you now and then."
Wet with sound, cosmic hum, we mapped
the rosy hills blooming from the storm.
With honeydew eyes I awoke and laughed,
dawn shineth through a window open.
- Dylan Whisman