357. A Silent Dream

I sit here quietly, 

and all the world 

feels like a very bad dream.

Why can’t I wake up?

Stuck in this memory,

why does the world pass me by, 

when I sit here on the sideline,

cheering for champions to be?

Why must I?

The calm is more frightening

than being struck by a bolt of lightning. 

At least then there’s thunder

to bring forth a pre-emptive warning.

Calm before the storm, 

and there is nothing.

No signs to watch out for,

and no signs of a familiar shore,

But why yearn for it more? 

There is chaos within silence,

though it makes no sense.

We are merely waiting for it to return,

and waiting for that next moment,

our last chance to burn.

I sit here quietly,

but it is never truly quiet.

Chaos isn’t limited to what we can see,

nor can we always control it.

How do you control something

when you can’t see it in front of you,

when all you see is sporadic lightning,

a shockingly vile attribute? 

Why must you?

However, there is so much more than this,

there is, there is.

But I fear we have lost our will,

and with that, I have had my fill. 

So, I leave you with this wish,

A wish upon a windowsill,

to fill the glass, at long last,

And to know that there is such a thing

as a calm reality that is quite serene,

And it is not something you should fear.

Because it is already here,

within this silent dream.

within a dream I am still in,

that I will one day wake up from,

championing what is to be,

And of my first known memory,

as I enter that new, yet familiar reality,

will be that of a shocking scream,

for all to hear.