I woke up on a bed of moss
Spongey and warm beneath my back
Somewhere in my there is a sense of loss
A filling feeling sense of purpose, though, I do not lack

The air is heavy and weighs into my skin
The sky is low and sets my body ablaze
My blood is tight and filled with endorphin
It's a happy sickness, some sort of daze

Indigo firs crowd around me like I'm some sort of spectacle
Under tones of sepia and filters of light
Radiation of something pure, something spectral
The brown grass whispers to me in a form of delight

Warm fog rolls a billowing into my clearing
An aura of invitation, clean and mystic
It hinders my sight and usurps my hearing
And I know what lies beyond is likely cryptic

Walking through it, I am instantly transported
This mountain forest edges an empty sandy expanse
But something's not right and the distance is distorted
Floating geometric megaliths in a freakish kind of trance

Spirits of wander wisp past me in heavenly sound
Under an eclipsed sun, halway dark and halfway bright
A white wolf trots behind me, it's toes twinkling on the ground
Feathery wind tunnels vent me to move forward this night

In this place, though I am alone
It feels like I am indisputably at home
Even though not even a day has gone
It feels like I've been here for an eon
I could spend an eternity in this place
Purpose and meaning and time and space

i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.