It must be so beautiful,
to imagine it happening—
wearing the finest cotton,
pure, white, and long.
To lie in the soft grass,
the moss, the mud,
the trees, the leaves,
all waving at the sight.
The slow, gentle rhythm
of a day with no end.
No yesterday,
no tomorrow, no time.
To forget the wrestle
of forbidden life—
just a long slumber
of peace and joy.