Bliss is a field of lush grass beneath a blue sky,
Dotted with countless golden dandelions,
And there is a tree, a large oak tree,
With branches to shelter from the sun,
A place where time loses its meaning,
Where the trials of the world fade away,
To be replaced by the singing of a songbird
Or the frenetic dance of a dragonfly,

Bliss is a place cut away from civilization,
With neither building nor street to be seen,
Here the wind is crisp and fresh as it blows,
Here the water is swift and clear,
Small things creep through the grass
With subtle sounds, heard but unseen,
Above, things scamper through the tree
As its branches gently creek and groan,

Bliss is a sanctuary far removed
From pollution and perversion,
Where the wild things live and thrive,
A paradise birthed by nature,
From the warm of the sun’s rays
To the cool shade of an oak tree,
From the fragrance of colorful flowers
To the dew that clings to emerald leaves,

Bliss is an ode to a slow and lazy day
Spent in the embrace of the outdoors,
Where problems are a by-gone memory
And nothing more,
Resting beneath a tree in sweet ignorance
With closed eyes and open ears to
Take in nature’s melodious symphony,
As time meanders by, aimless and tranquil.

By Hegemony


2 thoughts on “Bliss

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