I lay my head on the pillow,
My teary eyes sleepily fall shut.
Black fills the peepholes,
There I stand, in this endless rut.
Straddling the chronic pain,
Hope and faith quietly thrive.
The fiery colors in the dark
Remind me that I'm still alive.
I see images of people...
Even when I'm asleep.
Some are old, some are young,
Some laughing, yet others tend to weep.
I wonder what they want of me,
To them, what could I possibly suggest?
It's more than my mind can handle,
More than my heart can digest.
I've never seen them in my life,
They look homeless at their best.
I wonder just who they are,
And let my dreams do the rest.
Nightly, they check in on me...
They never speak a word in form.
They must have flown here from the heavens...
Just precious angels in the storm.
