Tempest

All a dream…?
Everything’s forgotten now
except for tiny fragments
of visions, and a voice I knew so well.
There were times, I dreamed,
when the sky was filled with sunlight,
and blurry smiles filled faces all around.
But words brought storms,
and thunder crashed, and lightning cracked:
I split that sky so easily,
as the hateful fountain before me
glimmered with its borrowed light.
Fake beauty, nothing more;
the world was so distorted.
As suddenly as they appeared,
the clouds were gone
and only you remained.
There aren’t many words left;
only a few in my memory.
Among them, there’s a whisper,
simple, but powerful:
“Dream of me.”
And dream I did,
until the final storm.