Violet skies and golden trees

introductory poem

The violet skies cursed the land beneath them,

The golden trees blessed the ground with drops of blood,

The buildings of the city were far away, as was the noise,

There was only silence but yet it echoed like an incessant moan

Mercilessly tearing through the solitude and tranquillity,

Gravestones marked the passage of time

And a broken swing hung from an ancient tree,

A memory of a broken youth, fragmented, playful and sinister,

I knew what I had left behind but I didn't know what was coming,

I was trapped in a dreamland somewhere in between,

Promising myself comfort and refuge in a Fairy-tale land,

The air smelled sweet and it tasted good,

But there was something wrong,

Was it the light which shined too bright?

Or was it the fine edges blurred into a mass of the unknown?

Every time I returned my gaze to the wood; it looked different,

Nothing remained the same; it seemed as though the tide of change

Would take me in its possessive arms and torment me until the end,

Icicles hung like cold reminders of something I could not remember,

Though the radiant sun beams illuminated the leaves and bones,

The remains of those who trespassed into the abyss,

Did I have any right to wonder into this fantasy?

But after all it was my mind which created these visions,

These real and definite images of gaudy pleasure,

They told me I lived in my head and in my stories,

But where else was I to belong?

Did I belong in the sweeping river which stole away my fictitious enemies?

Did I belong in the moonlight beside the gothic fairies?

Those who called my name like an enchantment as I went under,

Sleep was no escape from reality but this, this was a dream,

It was impossible but yet it felt more real than anything,

Flowers twirled in an exotic dance I was too afraid to join,

But the sweet smell enticed me and before long I was seduced,

Come, you belong here they whispered,

Phantoms encased me in the soothing lullaby,

The silent key, the motionless sport, and the concealed treasure,

The people told me I was a dreamer, an optimist, a fantasist,

You romantics have no place here in the pessimistic world,

They said life is not fiction or a story,

But can't they see that life is nothing more than a story?

It begins, it rises, it falls, and it ends,

Loneliness filled the room like the presence of a giant,

I sought an escape in my angelic- demon realm,

What I created is as real as the world you perceive,

As real as the world I live in, is to me,

Reality was nothing, my imagination is everything,

I looked beyond the rigid nature of dimensions,

I saw a land somewhere in between,

No guarded portal denied me access to my hopeful paradise,

This is not a case of self-deception; it is a case of self-salvation,

Without this world I would not be the person that I am,

The futility of such an existence

Would surely determine an inevitable demise,

I can secure my transitory position in my heaven,

For my island in the clouds is a view beyond,

Beyond everything my eyes permit me to see,

No membrane can implant a barrier in my way,

I am unstoppable now for this is my world,

I can own it and I can do anything,

There are no rules; they were all made up,

For people who couldn't see the truth,

The mist does my blind my sight,

But I have never seen so much, awake

As I have in this sleeping pathway,

No one can deny me my escape, my paradise,

Condemning the weeds which grope at my ankles,

I reach for treasure which is visible from the distance,

The perfect amanita muscaria; it is calling me,

Our desire is mutual, I cannot return,

This has to be a one-way trip,

It has to be.

It would be.