Rooms at the end of hallways,

gold blossomings of air--

the space-enchanted sofa,

the light-transported chair.

I stand--this moment's witness

that the room I'm glimpsing now

holds all the dreams I've known,

all I shall ever know--

then pass down the hall and enter,

too deep inside to see

this light-graced world we live in

in lost felicity.

Copyright 2010-2012 Paul Petrie