Hallowed be the thoughts of thee...Ghostly in their make-up,
Strings, the guts of a harp, do intertwine, as I think of thee.
Ghostly Material, entertains, and enters thee.
The skies turn aqua, and effervescent green, puke coloured, portrait of thee...
And yet, here you are, Haunting Conscious Dream,
Undeniable, with power over me...
To entertain, divert and interest me...
Fascination, entered me...
As your Ghostly hands, do puppeteer me...
And lead me into desert seas.
Hallowed, be the hollow thoughts of thee,
As, you divert, and entertain my scene.
Yet, Ghostly, be the thoughts of thee,
And ghostly, be thy name...
And in the Mystery: Haunting Conscious Dreams...
The beautiful harp does play, a haunting theme...
You are very good at obscuring, things,
As Ghostly fingers intertwine...
And I awake, from you, one day perhaps... I ask?
The Mystery of this Haunting, Conscious Dream.
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