Fleeting Escape

The sun seemed humble,

As if trying to fit in the tranquillity...

Drugged with the spell

Cast on'em by the landscape,

The lost souls smiled back at

Their reflections in the serene water

While the gentle breeze

Whispered its hymn to the strands of hair,

Swiping them away from the face.

The masks laid on the grass,

Idle. Probably for the first time.

The dexterity on their carving

Tell stories long buried in their folds.

Absorbed in the allurement

The dreamy eyes sheltered ecstasy,

"Bliss in lucidity", they said.

The faces lying in the grass

Framed their lips in wry smiles

That crafted the words:

"The Clock Never Stops."

The sun seemed fierce,

As if trying to challenge

The Wilderness...