Tortured Muse

My child,
Feel the dream
Its soft and fraying edges
Tethered outside of time.
Be glad of this rocky outpost
An explosion of life and color
In the black vacuum of space.
Revel in your awareness
At the dim thoughts
Bubbling up from nowhere
The pieces you call self.
Resist the black iron prison
Its chains of false gold
And wicked adulations.
Remember you are of the Spirit!
And to the Spirit you will return!