Wandering amoungst forests of darkness,
avoiding shadowed silhouettes,
lurking behind oak and cedar.
My journey was piloted by twinkling spirits
which danced the steps of fadeless flowers in the fields of space.
Forms of ancient ruins stood starkly black
against this panoramic canvas that we call a fabricated dream.
I wonder of the history pumping through the veins of these lonely stones.
A sharp slap of breeze awoke me from my nostalgic trance,
breaking magic’s grasp on my mental conscience.
Now I must retrace my steps back to my reality.
Hopefully I won’t take a wrong turn onto the road less travelled.