Dreams Of Fresh Mead And Green Graves

I have yet to return from my multiversal slumber 

From the dream I’ve been eternally dreaming 

As fragments of some lost mythological past

Marked by burial mounds and passage tombs

My dream-visions depict ancient battles 

Horns blazing with mounts braying

Features painted with dark blue woad 

And mullets slicked back with citrus

My dream-visions depict mines of salt

With the ritualistic death of weapons 

As an atonement through an old pantheon 

Being catapulted into rivers and lakes

My dream-visions depict a cosmic trinity

A father and his two belligerent children 

Conveying a balance between the light and the dark

Meant to cyclically detach and realign

My dream-visions depict knotted oaks

Allowing me to reawaken from where I once laid

Returning to the chaos of the noble hunt

Through our societal taboos’ escapement

My dream-visions depict an emphatic search

For autonomy in its submission to loneliness

Because the deepest love can be intoxicating 

Like when fresh mead leads to green graves

My dream-visions depict drunken nonsense 

As shadow entities mock and toy with me 

For my hospitality challenges my passions 

Forcing unsupported conclusions tied to glory

© Niklen 12/25/24