I too had dreams,
A beautiful wife, a loving son, a beautiful home,
My family all happy, focused on God.
As my dream was ripped away by the daylight,
I saw dreams fighting to conquer my past,
and the lives of all.
When I awoke, I saw the nightmarish hopes
of sleep — during the mirage of parched-sun.
In the corridors of unfamiliar night-terrors,
the darkened hallways stretched beyond their reach,
As the calling rang in my ear, I watched my human hopes leave me one-by-one.
Each new hope brought more or less pain,
I held the hand of one dream, embraced another, caressed the cheeks of the last, from all of these dreams I was murdered.
My execution by these dreams did not define me, they simply reminded me of their nature of death and illusion.
The dream prioritizes its slumber above all else.
Dreams embrace their reflection, and their own dreamers.
One day, the dream of dreams is ripped away, and the lightful silhouette is lost, when the canopy of memories fades away, and reality sets the dawn.
The darkne…