Quiescence

​I run through fields of greens and colors aplenty wind in my hair dust in my lungs with leaves dancing in the sun flowers in pageant to the symphony of the wind chimes ​The melody—ambrosia to my ears and then—a shrill squeak. ​The music stops. A long-pitched scratch. An offbeat shriek. ​Before Quiescence ​Choirs fade. The opera numbs. ​I stand alone. Within the moment. Of silence. Of darkness