Dream of the Dead

Last night I had a dream, every inch of the sky was blood red and every living thing was dead. I was only me, resting against a dead tree, feeling quite simply at peace. Then I recall flying over it all, the dried oceans, cracking landscape dim. With a tilt of my head, I flew into the dead shattering the mirror divide. The fragments of glass embed my eyes as I pass darkening the beauty I view. Now I’m alone, dead kingdom, dead throne, and I woke up to realize it’s true.