A rip in the sky,

bloodied with ink,

it seeps down

into the tales they drink.

The gentle moon shudders and gasps at the space,

between those who float

and the souls that race.

Within this, the realm of reverie exists.

It summons one up and above the abyss.

A never ending hallway,

a fixture of light,

one solitary chandelier suspended at height.

Adorned with dreams,

it shakes with life,

steering one through the sleepwalk of time.