As In A Dream

My dreaming self has finally 
responded to an old wonder, 
whether the eyes viewing those 
dreams discern colour, and 
now, I have my answer. A
vision visited my sleeping soul
of a summer garden watched
over by a mysterious spirit
so serene she posed quietly
as a statue would, inciting the
garden to growth and vibrantly
transcendent beauty, searching
and grasping sunrays and raindrops
birds and breezes, butterflies and
bees to enhance its singular
vision of self as a Paradisaical
Eden, comforting itself in
the splendour of existence,
entrancing my sleeping vision.