In a dream their is no reflection on where our body sleeps.
Angels may sweep our mortal form away lifting our soul
to a heavenly muse.
But, there are shadows even in our dreams,
who dwell in the corners of our madness and genius.
It is a vortex bent down on death and forgetfulness.
But, darkness cannot grasp the light;
starry Angels in the night also rising like the sun and setting
with the moon light.
In a selfish claim, like Satan cry out, "I am!"
The world is unfolding in ribbons of color and pageantry.
As blood soaks the fields of Armageddon.
Falling, falling into the pale dark sand of the moon,
a spirit finds a peal of immeasurable value.
This is the avarice of oblivion and desire.
The eye of God does not rest even in our sleep.
God watches our nightmares and pleasures.
Male and female he made them in his image.