Happiness in my coffin | ✔

S w e e t w h i s p e r s

I gaze under the moon at night

I prance through fields of flowers

I float through wonderful waters made of diamonds

I run through skyscrapers of trees

I do not stop
Not until the moon has turned to to its brother,
until the flowers have run out,
until I am too tired to tread any longer,
until the trees end.
until I have heard the sweet whispers of nature through the stars, the petals and the leaves.

Not until I am awaken.