How can this poem be improved?

A time
where night welcomes day
when no animal screeches
no city breathes
and a time
of peace.

A time without
darkness or bright
when everything
bitter could be
sweet.

The way the fog
smudges and blends the
oranges and purples. The
clouds like ripples in an artist’s
painting. Perfect imperfections.

The swaying of the trees, the quiet whisper
of the wind. In the twilight, the quiet can be
heard, and the loud can be silent. When people
can be who they want to be, not
who they need to be.

And as I rest my head on the dewy
grass, I see the disappearing stars
beckoning me. To join them.
To take my place
in the ever-brightening sky. Just a
point in eternity.

I closed my eyes as my favourite time
melted
into
day.