My sweet dreams are but a far-off fairy tale,
No longer a respite from dark despair;
My eyes toward Heaven are a blasphemous wail,
For although I look, I'm found kneeling there.
The blackness of the cave becomes my night,
Though to the sun would I have given ear,
Its warmth provides the only fleeting light,
With just an ominous glare for a seer.
No joy within can I ever take hold
For swift the tempest that storms in my mind;
Despite ventures made, nothing lasts as bold
Nor will I ever find peace I can kindly bind.
Against this storm, I stand quiet and still,
Though deep inside roars an angry will.
©jamielong
J