I tumbled down a hole,
and found a barren land
ridden in a mist,
so thick,
I can't see my stretched hand.
There is no sound,
but that of my wary feet
trying so hard to find steady ground
while I step over debris,
so jagged,
I can't stop my ankle from turning wrong
The sky looks pale,
almost uncaring,
like it too withstood too much,
and time lies stoic,
un-moving,
it seems to have lost its two hands.
I feel no presence
of a lingering soul
but only of doubt,
like a constant shadow,
that I'm in a demesne
of someone else's dream
that has been left
long forgotten
and I am, now,
to seek.