Powerless Dreamer

I walked miles in the darkness
black like ravens,
my body weak and unforgiving.
Haunted by the whispers that plagued
my inner being.

It was the eyes that were watching me
that kept me going.
Piercing me like an indestructible weapon,
highlighted in red.
Burdened like fire pouring from inside a mountain.

My heart pounded like a tribe dancing,
singing to the gods of an old forgotten religion.
It was the the breath of the night
that stopped me like a wall that I could not penetrate.
It was all to heavy, it was all to profound.
I realized I was carrying the conflict of hesitation.

So I propped myself against the pillars of the forest.
Scrapping my fair skin, I slowly slid down.
It was the leaves that I remember,
they were curled
beneath my cold, swollen feet
they were wet, no sunlight, had penetrated them;
just the shimmer of the moon that
illuminated them.

The stream off in the distance let me
relax from the eyes, the ravens, from the tribe;
it was the sea of crickets that gave way
to a motionless dreamer.
Like a meadow of tiny hands, not the lilies I remember.
I had sewn through the stars, connecting the night
to a dream, keeping it in my grasp.

But my layered story
dissipates, like broken bones burned to dust;
Blown by the wind where the sun now takes hold my
golden thread. The leaves dance; now crisp from the
daylight.
The air is not heavy but fresh.
And my broken body lets go of the conflict that I held
on to for so many miles.