Spiritual Sunday

waking sleep

She told me about her dreams. That in them, she prayed and never knew it. She felt at peace even with a broken heart, the pieces, like tectonic plates, moved to each other. But she was never the same. Even when Prince Charming came, he was nothing like the one in the fairy tales.

He rescued her, from the claws of insanity. Tears blinded her and she felt no pain. It was as if she was young again. Rain sang her to sleep and just when she was about to see him, his voice went silent and he was no more. In wake, she searched for him but she felt a tube in her throat. The flowers on her bedside table sucked the air out, she felt. And music was the beeping of the machines and still only her eyes moved.

So how could she tell me her dreams? She told me once, how she dreams of peace and leaving behind this rotting flesh. And so she lay there dying, praying to be set free from her body and meet her soul mate somewhere in heaven.

Posted by P.A.W. from WordPress for BlackBerry.

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