Vision

At this dawn of "bon voyage", after million escapades of blindfolded fate, I'm trespassing through the pirouetting pigments of fading frolics and windsurfing towards rose-oiled beams of glossy sun as its gossamer grandiose has finally enveloped my soul in sheath of marigold musings and sceneries of sunflower reveries where the dew makes pencilled-promises of green and gold. I have subconsciously swathed my versatile vision with serenity that snorkels between seraphic 'C'est la vie' threads of timeless marine tulips, connecting cosmic dots of the ornamented universe where Pluto's philanthropic sights are sequined as savoir vivre along the dwarfed faith in my heart. I now glide in buoyant embers of scintillating space, passing by blue brothers- Uranus and Neptune, swinging on shiny rings of Saturn and swirling in giant beige-brown storms within Jupiter's merlot belts. Mars greets me with a dusky red wave, as I surf towards venus' pearly white muse and mellifluous ashes of slate grey mercury, whilst immersing my swan-sung hymns within earth's ornate atmosphere painted with beguiling azure, emerald jewels and milky foam. Similar as, sunshine sneaks into the dove-white raindrops, sprinkling phosphenes of internal reflection and dispersing in chiffon hues of vibgyor; Dipped in lavender cinders, I refract seven shades of wildflowers within my sienna spectrum and reflect pastel strips of an ascending snowbird, rising above the beaches embalmed in crimson, flying across skies scattered with roseate rust of the past and arcing along the linen horizon, as smoked carbon coated lenses of my eyes neither hide these burgundy truths wrapped in bittersweet buttercups nor those lichen lies nestle in my sparkling ribs anymore. My skull glows with whipped starlight that no longer twirls in raven dance of gloomy ballads as obsidian silhouettes etched in silver mists don't haunt me with their heinous intentions of unseen reflections anymore, for, thick iced flakes of frozen hours are fading away in the brisk of amiable rays and I'm reborn in helianthus fields. So, if you believe to dwell in dreamcatcher visions of life's trajectories, a twinkling tunnel towards the North star eternally coruscates as an eden of fireflies above the crystal creek and portrays that there's always more hovering beneath the celadon surface of synthetic smiles if you wish to seek beyond the lavish lakes of polished peril.