…is drifting

Perfume is drifting
the dreamscape is strangely white
yet the breeze is warm
the dissonance unnerves me
it carries whispers of songs
from an unseen world
water is flowing
although I know not from where
its music lingers
a symphony of the unknown,
soft and eternal

this place, it feels vast
an expanse without borders
and an absence of sky
where the heavens have fallen
dissolving into the light
my skirt trailing wet
smooth pebbles beneath my feet
each step feels weightless
and time is fleeting
a fragile illusion

and there are flowers
soft, floating all around me
unanchored and so alive
their petals trembling
fragrance drifting
on the gentle breeze
colours both pale and vivid
drifting, just like me

slowly the mist is rising
cloaking the edges of sight
gently encircling me
softly I call into the emptiness
but my voice fades
into the dark beyond
forever lost in the vast void
I fear the silence
and even my own echoes
set my heart a ‘trembling

the breeze is now shifting
carrying images and sounds
that I have never known
yet they feel so familiar
memories still unformed
the water deepens
cool against my skin
drawing me forward
to an unseen destination
hidden within the mist

again, I am surrounded
by fields of flowers
their beauty indescribable
each bloom softly painted
touched with a gentle light
a promise of something more
is this place just a dream?
or a memory reborn?

the lines between reality
and imagination
now blurring, fading
and finally I am adrift
weightless
just a shadow
amongst the waves
© Ann Bagnall