The Beholder

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, however big and bold, that is what I may well of been told, in this life of old. Trying to awaken my consciousness, for I must be comatosed, surely I am not in the living world, my head must be in the clouds. I wake up in a sweat, not knowing what has just happened, it all seems so surreal, do I stand in judgement or appeal. Piecing together my thought processes, was it a dream or a reality, wishing, thinking of my grandmother watching over me, sending me a sense of calm and peace. I will stay with that thought, that beautiful vision, of my grandmothers mission, to deliver peace and harmony to a muddled brain.