Disillusion

The rainfall

                     in my dream

sounds much more like a scream

and I wake

                     only to find my disillusion.

In the stillness of the night,

It finds its shinning light and, dutifully, keeps me company.

It sits in solemn prayer,

by my bedside holding air of enlightenment, and sacred apathy.

I’m just like a child, hiding under its casting shadow overtop of me.

I cannot shake the thought: If I leap what will cause my stop- further grief and heartache can only follow.

So I take my rightful place, in honour and disgrace- disillusion you can be the death of me.