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down forgotten halls where echoes alone reside
and the patina of dust conceals most
memories alone past colour the grey halls
appearing as a nightmare of the lost
as if it was almost another life
where a world of values shaped the perception
and night was a mere illusion that was
compared to the sunlight that apparently is
like the edreams of yesterday passing away
to reside in the unconscious and develop
into mayhap hopes, or tormets of tomorrow
I try to discard to creat the lost in vain
and there is the consequence of regret
poignant and puposeful is it's delight
and that taints my continuing journey
my once-valued dreams, held in hand.
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