I dream,
I fly,
into
the sky.
I sin,
I fell,
I burn
in hell.

In beauty,
and grace,
it was
my place.
In arms
we cross,
we clashed,
I lost.

The memory
to remain,
I live
in pain.
Although
I wrong,
I do
still long.

Once blonde,
and fair
is now
black hair.
My wings,
once feather,
are now
in leather.

I live
in black,
upon
a rack.
In red,
and fire,
in bloody
attire.

I wear
sharp brines,
around
my spine.
In burning
damnation,
I scream for
salvation.

06/14/2002

Author's Note: This poem was different for me. I had a dream, long time ago, and I actually 'saw' this poem in a dream, and remembered it! I know, you're not suppose to be able to read in dreams and all, but it's true. Thinking back, this makes me think of Richard Bach's "One", how he described this fairy telling him what he should name his new book, and he heard a whisper in a dream 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull'. The fairy then explained to him she was shouting her ****ing brains out so he could hear her. Makes you wonder...

Posted on 06/14/2002
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