Occult

A meadow, a flower,
The colour of the grass
The dew, the drops,
The rain of the clouds
The wind, the music,
The sounds of the ocean
The birds, the insects,
A place like heaven.

I lie, I gaze,
A mind wayfarer
I think, I blink,
The hay catch fire
I stumble, I fall,
Can’t stop the occult
The meadow, the heaven,
It’s gone forever.