With a clear mind,
the words flow in:

I hear a cadence like a beating drum
from my own heartbeat in my ears
disrupting the silence, or
adding to it, I can’t tell

the images, the feelings
like sand across my skin
like music in the distance, you can’t hear the lyrics
but you can tell you know the song.

Like visions in a hazy prophecy
my mind spins the whims my dreams whisper to me
and I close my eyes, and weave-
and here flows this
poem,
or maybe it’s just the quiet breeze
and all this is my mere imagining.