of nightmares and hallowed heroes,
there is a glazed moonscape of wonder,
bursting the extraordinary
out of the mundane.
It used to be a recurring dream,
beckoning me to the straits of memory.
Such architecture and atmosphere
has lured shamans, explorers, and adventurers.
It's been bottled up:
passion taken form,
a figure standing in the hollow
sanctuary for the captivated.
Bound by a tie others know not:
purpose and destiny.
Wrap it around you.
I crave you,
body and soul.
The rest is silence,
a question of despair
marking the hours
forevermore.
