The dreaming

She sits in the darkness and thinks to herself. Quiet thoughts, in black and white like the old photographs treasured away in thick, musty family albums, punctuated only by the occasional unexpected burst of colour of a particularly vibrant new idea. One flickers in her consciousness, tentatively. She reaches out and grasps it with eager hands. Fingers spider-walk quickly over the thought - but no, not this one, not this time. She sighs, rubs the sleep from weary eyes and begins to write.

"Somewhere in eternity, suspended in time
Sleeps the man with my name, that I'm searching to find
All the wishing on wishbones will not make him mine
Until he awakes from his dreaming

Shadows to shadows, stardust to star
Near as a thought and just as far
Will I walk through infinity to find where you are
Until you awake from your dreaming?"

It is an unanswered question. She leaves one darkness for another. And searches for the answer, still.

* Ok this is all metaphorical, so don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'm still all there. Pretty much, anyways. I just felt like writing, is all.