Nights dark past days dreamt.

Visions without forms,
Delusions of grandeur.

All alive,
in mouths gaping.

Dreams burst,
of just being,
Of scenes heard,
And not screaming.

Listen,
Don’t lead.

Alone in the silence,
Scenes play of wildness,
Of that irrationally emergent,
Of that potential-packed-peace.

Of the motion that moves,
When intentions cease.