Perhaps

It is that rarest of times
when you have drawn a curtain
across your mind
veiling it from ogres and screams
worries about today,
stopped playing darts with dreams.

Stopping in the purest of hushes
till every sense is razor thin
in anticipation,
inhaling a mesmerizing natural elegance,
swallowing the tangential potion
deep into the veins.

Light erupts in a plume of brilliance
each color paints its own tale
upon the soul.

You are awake with more intensity
than ever imagined,
whatever kill your mood
before
is a ghost.

But it is the song written
upon the heart
which truly touches the most.

New notes of joy
cast out the ones of lament.

Eyes grow a vision to see
beyond the sticker patches of worry,
uttering in new faith
one simple word of reborn faith,
perhaps.