The dark blue sky dreams clouds of cotton onto the shimmering fields found below.
And the peaceful resistance found there -
the nitemare craved in conjunction with the seeping chaos of a lover's battlefield.
The dreams I once had when I was there,
so very long ago -
and I knew then that they were only dreams
so how could I let them affect me so much?
The painful landscape called love,
scoped out as just another chaotic nitemare -
dream of something else altogether -
the only way we'll ever see the darkness absorbing the sun -
yet how does global warming survive as thus?
The dreams hold onto the power -
the strength of the stars echoing into this still void.
