gossamer of broken dreams.

Quiet and dark, the room is pulling on the shutters.

"Give in" the walls whisper quietly…. I’ve been fighting this feeling for hours.

I finally must close my windows, and allow sleep to overcome me.

But no sooner than the world goes back do the crimson spiders of dreams arrive.

Weaving midnight webs of memories that my conscious mind pushes back, back, back.

They arrive as brilliant brush strokes, vivid and emotional to sleeping beauty.

Painting scenes I adore….

Exhibitions of the world in months past, where beauty and love hung from the branches of my life like apples…

To be picked and savored at my pleasure.

So different from today.

I awake to cloudy thoughts and an entangled mind.

Real events reborn as fantasies of the slumbering mind are cruel.

Time is wasted sorting truth from fiction… cleaning up the cobwebs so the view is clean.

Today is one of those days when my mind is too trapped.

And illusions follow all day, begging to be seen.

But I run away… so fast that my feet lose the ground, my heart grows wings and soars away.

Flying toward the sky, I refuse to allow the weight of broken dreams be the end of me.