A peaceful song pulls at my thoughts
Sweeping my soul through a meadow
Filled with low hanging weeping willows
And a gurgling brook
With tufts of grass flanking that stream
Fuzzy colours all around
Like a post-impressionist dream
Filtered through the eyes of societies insanity
The only thing trampling the mood
Is the outside world blaring from a tube
Shucking the calm that flows within
Into a frustration so pitted it groans
A casual breath turns towards forced
Focusing on zen, the art of happiness
Resisting the urge to call out and reform
With one simple application of a minor force
Sounds die out, echoing in the walls
Crafting witty remarks amongst the plants
That reflect the incandescent glow
A warm glow of a settling mood
Relaxing within the peaceful song
Sweeping my pressured edges towards their sheaths
And collapsing my insanity into a calm exhale