A Dream in me.

There is nothing ahead. There is nothing behind.
Nothing anywhere, yet everywhere is anywhere.
The peace, ceaseless, revirbed images of a life long gone, an empty shell left behind to sing the song to which there aren't any words.
To some there are many, to many there are none, to none are there all. With vision so longed for to be a remnant, pain is but a sixth sense to the whim of a life. The breath of life, once a whimsical song, now presages misery borne into life.
Crying so beautiful, grievously torturing, a life forced anew into blight of the world.
An ashen vision once wondered true, begged the world redemption ensue.
So far in peace, how hath blood be shed...

I open my eyes from the dream.