the calm (there's a hillside)

there's a hillside,
full of much idyllic wonder,
where suppuration abides
within the wind's exhales.
the murmurs flow in airy-currents,
containing ancient dialects,
spoken of much wisdom and mystery.

the young ones dream of such tranquil locations,
as their selfless, humble dreams
careen on well-beaten byways, comprised of
the clandestine things to be seen
by a child's ever-believing eye.
wading in ankle-high creeks, The Calm promenades.

such simplicity reigns among the simple,
but nears the borders of surreal.
the story-book hillside pantomimes
a dimension one cannot
simply wrinkle or transverse into.

set into blatant and plain view,
seven stronghold-trees house themselves
in a single linear fashion,
cloaked with a low-settling fog, around each base.

an almost Oriental sunset becomes the mother
of this phantasmagorical region,
mustered up by the minds, longing for release and escape.

if only such an idealistic setting
could possibly exist in only a prayer's essence...

if only such a hillside were given.