Cerulean Transience Of All My Imagined S

<br>All is calm, all is quiescent-the colour magenta,<br>The afternoon breeze finds its way to my soul,<br>AsI sit there and enhance the tranquillity,<br>The solace of sensory magic, Irreplaceable nirvana,<br>My body feels the effect of blood-letting,<br>The winds brought in from the south coast replace<br>Such drainful inhabitance,<br>My eyelids voluntarily close as the blue horizon line takes shape,<br>Stretching out far beyond the sun,<br>The sound of the blue, an eternity of complete aquiescence,<br>I cannot move, nor do I need to, for it is enough to lie on the cliff<br>And become entrapped in a world of escapism and peace,<br>Cerulean transience of all my imagined shores,<br>A bird of the ocean perches before me<br>And lets out a shriek which transcends me back,<br>Back to where I write,<br>And the calm breeze continues to enter my peripherial