Dreams

The sister of death -
with soft, bony hands
caresses me
every night.
She beckons to me
under my blankets
with glowing yellow eyes
and mounds of flesh.
A different world
is waiting for me
she whispers
if I just come with her.
Yet I do not follow.
No, not just yet.
Instead, I snach her gifts
she presents to me
with a gleam in her eye:
magnificient, opulent dreams
which convey
in the deepest sense
all I have ever wanted.
She says all of this
will become mine, forever,
once I cross onto
the other side.
Every perfect memory
pours into my mind;
for just an hour, at least
I am the person
I have always prayed to be.
Yet just as quick
as they came,
by the sound of my alarm clock,
the pictures are twisted back
into a void of darkness
to join the ghost of Yesterday
and the demon of What Will Never Be.
It is no wonder
I wake up each morning
with tears running down my cheeks,
and a grit determination
to be making that adventure
to the land of eternal slumber
very soon.


~J.V.Harker~
~2 Febuary 2009~