Worulde

Crimson balloon hovers motionlessly over icy pyramids
As stars shimmer in the blank eternity of sleep
Bluish, harsh light
Strands of hair forever rotate over amorphous whiteness
I wander through waving meadows
But Time has stopped
Shards of dreams slice downwards,
Bitter, cutting daggers to the soul.
Lightning softly whispers,
A face pressed against the glass
Spreads like jelly, intruder in the twilight silence.