at night when houses are asleep
i am not.
my eyes gaze at a garden
it is glowing.
i am not dreaming.
vines are speaking- silently.
they do not make sounds.
yellow petals float about me,
they are singing a loquacious hymn
it fills me with comfort and peace
as it is nothing like i have ever heard before
i feel myself slowly giving in;
my limbs wrapping around the trees
i am completely at ease
not a single sound can be heard.
the river nearby flows,
water thumping against soft land
the garden is silent.
my head is screaming.
and so am i.