Back into Paradise

Maybe it’s the ligneous bookshelves with stories only to be displayed.
Or the soft melody of a piano that has yet to be played.
There’s just something about this alluring place
being so mellow and empty, yet permeated with grace.

When dawn turns to dusk turns to lucid moonbeams
I am back in this palace, but only in dreams.
It’s immense but sequestered, known only by me.

Yet when dreams are over, disappears instantaneously.
It happens to frequently, but always comes to an end.
I await the day my mind goes into paradise again.