In the morning..
The sun starts to burn the fog away..
I was not suppose to be here..
But I was..
I was in the meadow where the Sentinels reside..
The guardians of light and dark..
Light and dusk angels..
They walk around the morning fog and enjoy the peace..

I can view the places of rain memory..
Where the puddles gather ready to be taken by to the sky..
The sun calls to the waters...
And slowly takes it back to the clouds..
You had to kiss the earth before you become and Ocean..
And soon you will become a tide to greet the Earth again..
Only this time the moon will call to you to do so..

Echoes. . . . .
Astral messages on the walls..
Celestial voices..
Seraphic poetry viewed through the third eye..

Inside. . . . .
Is inside..
The builder beholds his creation..
A creation from being inside...

The. . . .
The beginning was shown to us..
From high above..
3 winged angels sing in chorus..

Vessel. .  . .
The vessels were made in the sand..
Only shells of them..
To match the lights in the sky..

Above.....
Above and beyond thoughts..
Dreamscapes and new horizons..
Unfamiliar constellations..

The song I had in my head before I fell asleep left with me to my dreams....