This Is An Escape

Tree-topped ridges.

Morning blood boils up over the horizon,

painting the sky in pink and orange.

The lake lays calm, still half trappedĀ in sleep,

its slow breath fogging as it greets the morning air.

This is not the world.

This is a transition.

A dream:

Existing in vivid colour and detail,

where an hour exists inside of a second,

This is an escape.

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