those whose sparkle shine
like  diamonds on a
silver lake in the middle
of a forest
acres of nothing but trees surround

those whose breath
like mine is
met with frosty shivers
on a cold or warm morn'

where the atmosphere
is nothing
ghostly images on vistages of vanities
breath rising clouds in the air
to a mountain

somewhere a vantage like a scenic cliff
in some such mystic place
the place you saw last night in that
dream

where breath meets the clouds and the air so crisp clean
washes your insides