I walk along the paths of cobble amongst the dim street light,
An elegant choreography of colours fills the amber sky as my mind drifts away.
In the distance, the symphony of the wind plays.
I hear its allegro, its presto -- it is a masterpiece for the senses.

I stroll for what seems like an eternity, thinking about that elusive feeling
Of a white hand caressing my shoulder --
I stop.

The gates open in front of me.

A golden glow dispels my foggy breath as the sky fills with cinders and dust.
The light calls my name as I stand there petrified;
What was golden turns dark orange.
My eyes refocus. I wake up.

I feel soft embrace of the rain.
The effervescent smell of petrichor fills my nostrils as darkness consumes my thoughts.
The penultimate burden is the least cumbersome, for the most daunting one trails the contour of my head;
A white hand emerging behind me.