I slumber, dreaming, overshadowed,
The smallest of men engulf the sky,
No one but I regrets my chosen road,
To choose between the pan and fire,
The fallen tree burns to light the way,
While shattered skulls grin mournfully,
Waiting transience murders perfection,
Charging the smallest touch with a sense of loss,
Moments gone and a future out of reach,
Nowhere to hide, only I stand in my way.