I wandered deep in painted sleep, Where echoes swam and shadows weep. The walls would breathe, the sky would hum, And time unstitched where I had come. A garden stretched—a whispered past, Eden’s bones in green held fast. I watched them name the wind, the beast, The sea that roared, the earth that ceased. Yet heaven had no gilded throne, But earth, reborn and still unknown. I called for power, called for fate, And mountains trembled at my weight. The sea split wide beneath my hand, Like Moses lost upon the sand. Moana’s tide, both wild and free, Yet all bent low and bowed to me. The thrones stood high in solemn light— One bore God, the Serpent white. Christ in robes, the void unnamed, Yet whispers claimed one was my claim. "Enough," they breathed, "the price is paid," Yet hunger’s ghost refused to fade. I traced the sky—a rainbow shone, Not ROYGBIV, but mine alone. Pink at heart, where red meets white, A pulsing core of loss and light. Letters carved within my name, Like prophecy, yet not the same. I stood as both—a shadowed spark, A dreamer caught in heaven’s arc. But when I woke, the world was still, And silence held me, soft yet shrill. Was it a dream, or was it call? A fleeting touch, or truth in all? Yet here I stand, though changed and free, The dream still lingers—part of me.