Reality lost in tangles of dreams
in briar roses and weeping willows
in trees of gnarled beauty;
branches twisting toward ceilings
like night skies emblazoned with
the spiral galaxy of stars we once lived in.
Now we stand silently,
entranced by this world, ruled by visions
becoming the darkness, the shadows
hiding in the corners until we fade to nothing;
pale figures drifting across
a floor of leaf-green marble, listening to echoes,
and the whispers of white air.
The pattern of life, an endlessly repeating spiral
we wished we had understood before
our eyes turned so dark even starlight drowned in them
and lions cried golden tears.