A kingdom of glass, of lightning-flame
forged
in towering ascension
Hauntingly flickering, as a rock-solid
specter
from wayward dimensions
Translucent spires with spear-cutting
peaks
and tinged with red
Flying buttresses mounted astride
earthy dark
in this home of the dead
Death whispering soft, cold air rushing
past
in unseen icy streams
Luring us deeper into the velvet abyss
of unrested dreams
Kingdom and castle, buttress and spire,
ever-growing in size
Feeding on life-blood of unborn
ambition
unto its very demise
Dreams be alive and live to be murdered
in an agony of neglect
Glass kingdoms blooming on the dry,
bleached bones
of a dreamer-elect
Fragile yet strong, remaining vast
unbroken
though pierced through
by beaten bloody fists of one suffering
soul
ever and anew
A ruby streaked tower, beautiful,
terrible,
a reminder to say
A dreamer may dream by night, but we
claim
his dream for the day.
