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.