To Morpheus

Could it be that,
in my despair and dark loneliness,
and so blinded by desperation,
that all evil that seemed unveiled,
projects to me today a statue yearned.
Is it just an idol to worship,
or pretense to a degree much larger?
Is it reality in its essence,
or another dream soon to be lost?

I tread softly onto these clouds,
reaching slowly for a rainbow,
every step forward,
takes me back to momenst long lost.
As the nostalgia deepens,
so does the desire to break free.
But I really do hope,
that again will it not be,
that the effort to break free,
forever enslaves me.