Poetry

This is what it seems to be in a dream
So beautiful that the very thought of waking is distasteful?
To see the yawning chasm of the doorway back to the world of the waking,
And to know that you have no choice but to step through that door once more.
Standing in the twilight of truth and fantasy,
And realizing that having both is an impossibility.
To be caught between the bright color of one and the stark pallor of the other,
And recognize that you cannot remain in the color.
Knowing, realizing, recognizing, that the choice you have has already been made,
And that no matter your fear, you cannot stay.

This is how it feels when the darkness holds you,
So warm and so tight, comforting you when the world is cold.
This is how it feels when the light tears you away from that warm embrace,
Throwing you back into the harsh reality to be tossed until your very soul becomes seasick.
Unresting, helpless, hopeless, sick and tired,
And knowing no island will rise to save you.
To remember the dark embrace, and being stuck in the rolling sea of light.
Chained and bound to a world you did not choose.
Blinded, sick, and exhausted as you try to keep your head above the rolling waves,
And feeling your muscles slowly give way.

What is this?
It is dark once more.
The sea is calm, the breeze gentle.
Wrapped in the warm embrace once again, the weariness already forgotten,
Content with the world, not even caring.
My head is clear, my thoughts calm.
Forever in a moment, a moment lost in forever.
I am, I was, I will forever be happy here.

Sleep.
Rest in the peace of the unconscious.
The dreams return, bright and colorful.
The fantasies live again, more real, more beautiful, more alive than ever.
Real in the fact that I have seen the other side,
Have been to reality and lived to return.
I can survive the waking world.
And I can always return to the dream.