Cloudless sky on a moonlit night, I sit beneath the oaks enveloped by the breeze. I close my eyes and listen to the leaves, I imagine it’s the sounds of a million tiny voices. These voices are the inhabitants of the oaken wood, they seem to be celebrating the moonlight and breeze. I open my eyes and watch ribbons of light stream through the trees, lighting on the floor of the oaken forest. My mind pictures shadows at play in the moonlight streams, dancing and making merry with no cares to be seen. I lay my body against the cool grass floor of the forest of oak bathed in moonlit splendor, the worries of the day I can’t seem to remember. I find myself in a moment to keep, I want nothing more than never to sleep, but to live my days in this moment of peace. Wishful thinking are thoughts such as these, so I make the most of my time in the trees. Thoughts of returning to the world beyond the forest floor are creeping into this nirvana I dearly adore. In my moment of despair a thought occurs “though I must go from my twilight dream, I can return anytime to bathe in this dream”. I bade farewell to the forest of oak and gave thanks for bidding me a moment to escape from the worries and struggles the world does evoke.