She came at night and sung me a lullaby. A haunting melody from a blood drifter's scratchy voice:
This is how it burns, my friend.
This is what it feels like.
To walk through the fire is to want something higher.
As confusion turns to fear and hatred of those most near.
Tears won't smother.
Fighting only stokes.
Sleep and dream and wait and see.
It comes to chew the flowers.
It comes to spin the view.
To clear the smoke means wanting less to provoke.
As anger turns to grace and willingness to share your space.
Falling down is overdone.
Why not fall up?
It's so much more fun.
I awoke feeling renewed. Less spiteful. The painting left behind is like a snapshot of my dream.
Reality is blurring more and more.
Today, at least, I don't mind it.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets from a Church Basement: The Desperate Diary of Fresco Ayers
ParanormalGod won't save your life. But this book might. So says Fresco Ayers, a scientist struggling to save his daughter while protecting the rest of us from unfathomable perils that he helped introduce.
