Dreaming
David G.
A blank slab of concrete,
A fresh white sheet,
A vacant canvas,
That is the start of a dream.
Stabs of paintbrushes,
Colors are vivid and flushes,
The white soon dissipates,
That is the beginning of a dream.
Colors flowing, growing, slowing,
Images appear, vivid, sharp, glowing,
A rapture to fully enjoy,
That is the progression of a dream.
Animals, plants, insects living,
In perfect harmony, worth admiring,
What’s that? A cloud? The Sun now blocked,
That is the entry of a nightmare.
Darkness invades, tears, destroys,
Blurs the colors, shades and decoys,
The once beautiful colors are gone,
That is the start of a nightmare.
The forest, touched by lightning, is set on fire,
Animals flee, insects burn, plants scream in a choir,
Help us! Help us! Pray help us all!
That is the beginning of a nightmare.
Everything burned to a crisp,
The ashes scattered, in the distance, a wisp,
The wind blows over the barren land,
That is the progression of a nightmare.
Out of the shadows, emerges a light,
A swirl of color, glowing so bright,
It touches the ground, and illuminates the dead,
That is the power of dreams.