He rested his head

  on a pillar

  of half-formed

  worlds,

  a column of words,

  written in blood

  and tears.

  He's waiting for

  reality to die,

  filling the pages

  of a grimoire

  with a spell

  to break everything,

  an incantation

  to shatter the world.

  I have spent

  my years

  dreaming in quiet spaces,

  wandering the memories

  of lost civilizations.

  I have uttered words

  whose stone shapes

  have shattered

  the bones

  of unknown gods,

  binding them

  to dark places.

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  It was my wish

  to punish the almighty,

  to flay their dreams

  and wear them

  as a cloak.

  And in that wish

  did I create this place?

  This grey world,

  filled with mist and lost hope?

  I saw the ghosts

  of lost loves -

  people I never met,

  And the shadow of my mind

  held on to what was theirs:

  innocent laughter

  echoing through empty forests,

  while unseen children

  laughed and played

  in rivers flowing

  to an ocean

  that had no name.

  And I wonder

  at the memory

  of the shadow of me

  that had another name:

  the child

  that followed

  the ghost

  of a dream

  into the woods.

  I remember a little boy,

  too wise to wake up,

  too eager to dream,

  He got away,

  vanished from the world

  and never came back.

  Perhaps I'm still following

  his shadow,

  the child I used to be,

  tracing the path of my own departure

  through the silence

  of a graveyard world,

  this land of my making:

  a place where gods lie dreaming.