Gods don't sleep,
They dream.

I dream dreams
of universal things.
They take my daze,
Like a forgotten deity
prowling a maze.

She stepped inside,
Dripping in gold.
Curious to discover
"just how deep
the rabbit hole goes".

Tarry not on the thought
of what time shall whither,
Nostalgic ache is a beatific bane
as "all that is gold does not glitter".

What is intangible shall remain,
I am a god as I stand in the rain.