User Review( votes)
written by: RayFed
Light comes again, even though hope seems strangely invisible.
The night has fled and the dampness of the morning mist lays on the dreamscape battlegrounds of my nightmares.
I gather the brilliant sun before me, under the morning sky, in ways that are out of control that I do not mind.
The old world refuses to fall away and I challenge with my sun dance.
I cavort with florescent tendrils of the sun, in whose heart is the warrior who makes the fire, makes it burn the world.