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Poem

Each day
as the night falls
and I lay my head
on the lap of sleep
to rest,
Someone sneaks in
through the backdoor
of my mind and
lights up myriad candles
of a disconcertingly recurring dream.

Holding my hand
with an angelic softness
It leads me on a 
meandering grassy trail
across lush meadows
through the fields of flowers
past verdant woods and valleys
onto a dusty sun-baked path
engulfed in a shimmering
haze of heat and dust to
an abandoned stable
that sits silently and forlorn
in the searing midday sun
amid a windswept wasteland.

There it makes me sit
on a sacrificial altar,
Puts on my head
a crown of thorns
and hands me
a burning cross.


~"Hallucination" contest by Brenden J Simons.

"Dreams" contest by rob carmack

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