In the brume of the morning,
my noctilucent mind wanders.
I snap myself to actuality,
a gossamer clinging on.

But I dream—
of falling into a canopy,
carried by the zephyr
into a celestine world.

My eyes reflect alpenglow,
an aureole of aurora above my head.
I glissade through
this manifestation of elysium.

Lambent insects dance across
this surreal peninsula,
while a lost spindrift searches
for my weary, waiting face.

its culmination nears
as the burden in my heart—
hauls me back to earth,
where shadows stir and fester.

The halcyon lies,
the evanescent world,
a phantasm of hope
drifts into oblivion.