thru the secret window

It’s a fancy world I live in; a world which is real and unreal, an assumption of an incomplete faith, a disturbance in the silent lake. I look up to the sky, I search for guidance, and a quiet prayer I offer and hope that it’ll be answered. I look up to the sky, bow my head in front of the granite wall, its rough, and its uneven, tiny granules of emeralds are embedded like tiny particles of the translucent dreams, dreams I’m not too sure if I belong to…the granite wall glances down on me with a strange affinity, an unknown relation and inquiring eyes…

A nebula disturbs my granite sky, it comes as an unwanted ripple in the silent lake, the granules secede, and my faith dwindles and before I snap out of the self created fantasy world, I see the tiny colorless droplets from the granite wall, granules have split, the wall has shattered, and I walk out of the secret window into the real, scarlet sky.