I was dreaming about
a glorious Heaven
While standing in front
of the gates to Hell
Gehenna and jaded it appeared
all that was once light begins to dim
As I aimlessly wander
lost in my own insecurity, dread
I was drawn, lulled; smoke and mirrors,
to the old tattered house next door
Inside candles and incense burned;
trance like surge of energy swayed
Tears and regret, heartache
reluctance, led me to a quiet place
I found a steel guitar that glistened
Crystal and sterling silver
– it wasn’t a Dobro or Resonator
It held magic within its weary body
an exposed aura of torment
Each string touched by fingertips
the sound of Angels cry
I started to play to ease the pain
and as I stepped outside
to my surprise it was snowing
And the east winds began to blow
once more, never more the raven flies

©2021 TrilbyYates