Are you dreaming again? Playing with people’s lives, in your head. Imagining in ethereal jargon, a life without war. Life without hate.

You think, of thoughts you can’t speak. Thoughts you can only whisper of, very softly, to the dying embers of twilight. Thoughts that could consume you, if you thought just a fraction too much.

 Are you the daydreamer? Are you the gold spark I see in the sunset, a second before darkness blinds the world? The wind that blasts through my room scattering paper, all over the floor; Scattering my feelings and good sense, into nothingness. The fire that ravages through the woods, leaving nothing, but more fire. The ability to invoke dreams in people; the best part of god everyone left behind…