Myrrisa

Myrrisa

It was another dream.

I stood before an old mansion,

sleeping in the arms of the northern mountains.

Someone spoke to me,

a voice that kept saying to go inside,

see her with your own eyes,

see how beautiful she is.

She would not let me leave.

She would not let me speak of anything else.

Her words fell endlessly,

and I did not mind them.

Yet I never understood who she was,

nor what she was trying to become in my mind.

Perhaps in another dream,

she will finally tell me what she wants.