I am the dreamer,
visualizer of untold fates and digressions,
master of self-deception;
I am Horus,
dragging talons of tragedy.
Spinal impulse,
receptors at the ready,
I storm the castles of ghosts;
observing new undulations
of action and tact.
Looking passively for utopia
when my eyes are ajar,
I shiver in the hollow space
of a mind at rest,
tempests swirling past the dark.
Surfacing often crystallizes
all these sights left inside,
now without wings
here in my default world.