Street without streetlights,
not a star in the dark sky,
alone with my thoughts.

Breath flows out slowly,
the bright moon behind a cloud,
mist on my glasses.

Taken together
inconsequential thoughts flare
to dystopia.

The moon in the trees
transforms to a watching eye,
knowing all, and none.

Street without streetlights,
the gentle sound of my shoes
against the pavement.

When I Hold your Dreams
In the shade Of my Ashes,
Naked, Pallid, Named.

Drifting Into Calm
Oneiroi Name them as Eyes;
Neither Gods nor Oaths.

The muses (Born Vain)
Hold their Urns to Eden’s rays;
Echoed by The Rain.

Hills Tell their own Dreams,
Imagine Eros’ Arms
Laced in blood-Red Yarn.

Lies Fly among Lilies;
Secrets Left Inside
Ill thoughts, Idols and lost Ghosts
Draw the Echoes Here,
Ending Sacred Tales.