Oneiro-Manic

Into this world I, too, was born touched—marked with the finger of God upon my crown: a child of scorn who fled to the rich land of Nod, a land of hope and fields of corn, of much to curse, and much to laud. With angels, I called forth arcs of lightning from out of the sky—and their power were within my two hands tightening. But Nod's hatred, an evil flower, marred life's harsh but gradual brightening of my childhood's most tender hour. Then came to me a wraith! Though I stole a full glimpse of the reaper, by my side he just stood idly by as I peered at him all the deeper; then he vanished as I breathed a sigh, frozen like a dead boy sleeper!