I dreamt last night that I had died

Not by an action of true significance

My death was not based on revenge, anger, or lies

Mine was a motive which ceased to exist

There has never been true bliss in my life

Just the warm embrace of being content

The anger I held floated away

Into a gray mist

The heaven in which I was released

Resembles the hell of most illustrations

Clocks, clouds, lightning, and the wicked forested depicted in fairytales

A labyrinth of questions in another dimension

Wandering for a while, loneliness overtook me

Looking for companions in my quest

Only a soft breeze blew the grey haze

I wondered of the loves I had lost

Strangeness in the lack of thunder or the tick of clocks

A silence that moved the way of the fog

No image reflected in the vain

Or standing water to prove I was sane

I journeyed the way of the breeze

Only to see where it would deliver me

Perhaps an act of liberation

Unknown then an expedition to adoration

Over the roots of decrepit trees and through the slants of moonlight

I moved, what seemed it circles, as the clocks wound back

It was then the forest parted and the night beamed clear

Upon ruins of what was once a palace before the fall

Inside the decay the moon shown bright

Colored glass reflected the glow to pastel luminosity

Moving through the devastation, I found myself in a center room

And there sat a boy

His face was covered with scars

But beauty pierced through his eyes

It was not of a basis of imagery

Only his past lives