a dream
a dreamI hear my name, a voice floating distantly through the mist, just behind those blackened trees, leaves faded away long ago, Ithought I had left the other world for good, the destruction and chaos had finally annihilated the futile corrupt ignorant rot. I thought that I had found salvation in ostensible insanity, and deliberate isolation, but through the gray mist I heard a voice which bore my name, though I could not call the voice my own, unless it had been reversed as it was reflected off the floating mist, mist, reflecting all I knew, if not understood, and that was my only my identity. It bore my own name, but in the wonder of the moment, and the abandonement of the situation, I had not realized that I had been calling out to my self, and I stared in the direction of the imaginary voice with disbelief, though still walking toward it with detrached curiosity, until I came across a skeleton clinging persistently with a bony hand to a low branch on a tree, so that it hung lifelessly there with a bent leg bones resting on the ground. I did not conssider this to be my reflection, and I continued in the direction of the voice that called insistingly toward me, untill I came to a pond which called me toward it, there I saw a figure semililoueted against the gray-white sky, like the blackened trees around me, I peered deep iinto the deep reflection of the sky from which I heard my name called out, I looked deep into the figure, whose lips were moving, forming the syllables of my name, I recognised the figire from the other world, I met the figure as I leaned over to the surface of the water, and I drankfrom the lips that formed the syllables of my name, flowing down my throat as I drank from the pond that reflected my solitude against the gray white sky.
Mateo I. Centeno (c)1996
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