THE FACE OF MY ANGEL

I am a dreamer of dreams, a dream weaver it seems, a dreamer of dreams, of dreams that don't end.

A lush green hill, with unicorns grazing, a deep hushed forest, with elves hiding in. Goblins and ghosts, centaurs and demons, dreams become twisted, the nightmare begins.

Alone in the dark, falling and screaming, down in the pit where the devil resides, his cold arms, await to enfold me, nothing can stop this disastrous slide.

Then in the darkness, the face of my Angel, burning so brightly, the darkness to change, raises a hand, and gently he guides me, loving me, even not knowing my name.

Out of the pit so slowly he takes me, dragging me back from the fear and the cold, into his arms, my lover my Angel, ever so gentle, and ever so bold.

Bright streaming sun, is the face of my angel, grass covered hills, and a sparkling stream, there I shall wait in my elven' filled forest, there I pray, come to me Angel of dreams.

My Angel of dreams, is my lover it seems, my Angel of dreams, of dreams that won't end.

Thunder

February 3, 1997

For Darkglobe you have been and always will be my friend.

Thank you, for caring enough to listen.

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