The Knight's Dream
Cockles of the inmost heart of hearts mysticallyis a public broadcast from the upper balcony.
A sword in hand searches for the pot of gold
up a ladder of angels.
Eagles flutter under hermetically sealed beams
with each twin twinkling in every shadow,
but every glimmer is overpowered,
for dreams go where we cannot follow.
It is a desolate location up in the clouds;
a bag of bones is covered in shrouds.
A black and white shadow lengthens.
Night progresses as darkness strengthens.
Thus recurring under every moon,
showing what‟ s already seen
glowing of what's coming soon,
serpents corner my snarled dreams.
It is a reflection of the screen
craving fear and desire it seems.
Part of a machine fails to mobilize.
As long as I sleep, I am paralyzed.
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