Poetry: The Dash of Dreams

in the corner of the night
where even monsters fear to tread
a simple blackened tune ignites
the woven wicks of wax and dread

and in this song are words of woe
disguised as treasure riddles vast
and solving even one will throw
your dreams into the fire — dashed

but even chords of crimson light
are not immune to phoenix blood
and at the whisper of your heart
can cleanse the dirt with holy flood

and so, at night, when shadows creep
close your eyes and count to ten
the dash of dreams is but a sleep
where all the aches of day can mend

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