From a feeling to a dream

I can still see it and feel it just as I did back then.
Reality grasped for closure.
Although I was shielded and segregated from it, by an unknown source of power found deep within myself.
The sky was as blue as ever.
But to me it was colourless.
A see-through atmosphere filled with nothing but space for dreams.
I could see the stars as if they were my own to eyes and the light filled me to the rim of blindness.

The moon was to me no longer a portrait on the wall of the universe;
it was a mirror image or maybe an exact reflection of life seen from a different outlook.

The thing that started out as a feeling was now a dream that was on the doorstep to authenticity and so near that I could lay a hand on it.

But as I reached out to it;
the vision that was the dream reviled its self and proved to be a fabrication by my own imagination.

A pocket-sized lie shaped inside my mind had grown from petite to be such a vast thing for me and questions came crawling under my skin asking if it was wrong to assume it would set me free.

Now I’m a jailbird in my own remains and the essence of my former nature screams for freedom!
But why does it scream when it knows that only I hold the key to my inner wretched self