A dream of mine.
In the garden of the past,
Where the blossoms ever last,
Where the Ghosts learn what they know,
Where the Light first starts to glow.
Ghosts lay dormant in the leaves,
Curious, I raised my greaves,
The touch brought pain, I closed my eyes,
And in my ears, I heard their cries.
"You are a dead thing, raised by a dead power,
No year, no month, no day, no hour,
Can mend the damage you have caused,
Endless hatred, never paused,
You are a sacrifice that questions not
The death that it has long forgot,
A slave to promised hope of Light,
A prophet of an endless night."
And there came a Light, pure and true,
Devoid of lies, deceit or stealth,
And in this glorious Light, I knew,
The only Darkness was myself.
A dream of mine.
