ire of illusion

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POEM: IRE OF ILLUSIONS

Published March 10, 2012 by salasbpa

IRE OF ILLUSIONS

A dream is like a treasure box

Where deepest thoughts and desires collide

No one can steal even the wildest fox

Until sweetest delusions hide.

Nightmare is but a hollow well

Where dread and qualms hone

Hope you wake up with the ringing bell

Until dreadful memories gone.

Lies quash a somnolent soul

Massif beneath a wound less heart

But leer sat on empty ghoul

Mirage drown like ancient art.

Dreams are galaxy of brightened veil

As nightmares are storm of largest hail.

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