Dark mists cloud our judgment,
Lucid visions, from beyond, contact us.
Within our deepest fears come alive-
Structuring terrors of demons… and death.
Mystical creatures are summoned,
Prices are set, not due.
You seem tired after dreams,
Only satisfied by the illusion of them.
Slumbering allows vengeful spirits to cross.
The border between life and death,
Reality and the unknown,
Shatters and you become the illusionist.
Granted with a power beyond concept-
You start to feel anxious.
Enlightening power dwells within us,
Deciding the fate of truth and deception.
You are the illusionist…
Creating the vision-
An Illusion of a dream.
About the Creator
Shiloh Hoisington
Born in Santa Ana, California. Currently living in Bay City, Oregon.
Officially, besides sites like Vocal, had one piece published. (compensation: a copy of the book). Any support is appreciated.
Visit TikTok @shiloh_d_hoisington
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More stories from Shiloh Hoisington and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart4 days ago in Fiction
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