Pale

Wandering
Through painless halls of mercy and forgiveness
I find a soul,
Perched on a pale of sorrow.
It drops;
Only to be banished for seconds
And to return, mortified.

The soul approaches
In a reflectionless mirror,
Although glass is scarce in this world of dreams.

Is it a dream?
Or a dry nightmare?
Why is the day so short
As the fourth moon rises in the sky?
Maybe the halls through which i wander,
Present only a mirage
Of life to come.