What is a dream, but magic?
It unfolds in a surreal landscape,
Real, beautiful, and even tragic.
She is held prisoner in her mind,
Under the veil of night and sleep,
In thrall to a sorceress she cannot find.
She struggles with her fears,
Running, hiding, trying to escape
From the magic and from her tears.
Desperately trying to know, to understand,
She hunts for the sorceress who holds her here,
So that she can escape from nightmare land.
She finds her way to a strange door,
It stands aglow with an ethereal light,
Alone, untethered, atop a lonely moor.
She knows she will find the sorceress within,
Tired, desperate for a reprieve from her nightmare,
She pushes her way through and enters the den.
Screaming into an empty white room,
She demands the sorceress show herself,
Silence answers her like a tomb.
Desperately, she frantically searches the empty space,
Screaming, crying, begging to meet her torturer,
Until, broken, lying on the floor, she sees the face.
There, right there, looking back at her, from below,
Where she never thought to look in her desperation,
Was the face responsible for all of this woe.
Features familiar and often hated,
Looked back at her with surprise,
Eyes wide and breath bated.
The gleaming, white, reflective floor
Showed her, in stark clarity,
Something she refused to see before.
She was the sorceress of this nightmare construction,
She was the one torturing herself with fear and doubt,
She was absolutely the architect of her own destruction!
Familiar anger at herself rose in her heart,
And she glared hatefully at her reflection,
But a gentle voice inside said, "Don't start."
An argument began to rage within her core,
The dark and light of her soul tearing at each other,
Until she screamed the most primal roar.
And then quietly, she said, with feeling,
"I can't do this anymore!"
She awoke and that's when she began healing.
It unfolds in a surreal landscape,
Real, beautiful, and even tragic.
She is held prisoner in her mind,
Under the veil of night and sleep,
In thrall to a sorceress she cannot find.
She struggles with her fears,
Running, hiding, trying to escape
From the magic and from her tears.
Desperately trying to know, to understand,
She hunts for the sorceress who holds her here,
So that she can escape from nightmare land.
She finds her way to a strange door,
It stands aglow with an ethereal light,
Alone, untethered, atop a lonely moor.
She knows she will find the sorceress within,
Tired, desperate for a reprieve from her nightmare,
She pushes her way through and enters the den.
Screaming into an empty white room,
She demands the sorceress show herself,
Silence answers her like a tomb.
Desperately, she frantically searches the empty space,
Screaming, crying, begging to meet her torturer,
Until, broken, lying on the floor, she sees the face.
There, right there, looking back at her, from below,
Where she never thought to look in her desperation,
Was the face responsible for all of this woe.
Features familiar and often hated,
Looked back at her with surprise,
Eyes wide and breath bated.
The gleaming, white, reflective floor
Showed her, in stark clarity,
Something she refused to see before.
She was the sorceress of this nightmare construction,
She was the one torturing herself with fear and doubt,
She was absolutely the architect of her own destruction!
Familiar anger at herself rose in her heart,
And she glared hatefully at her reflection,
But a gentle voice inside said, "Don't start."
An argument began to rage within her core,
The dark and light of her soul tearing at each other,
Until she screamed the most primal roar.
And then quietly, she said, with feeling,
"I can't do this anymore!"
She awoke and that's when she began healing.