High

The smoke or was it a cloud of dream
Where I was lying but yet flying.
The weightless body, or the heaviest core,
Blown with the air, while drowning on the shore.

The echoes, was it the tick of clock ?
Or the blasted victim I was.
But could hear from so far,
Or near as if I was in war.

World is my that cloud,
Where there was sun with no light.
I am the one and everyone was I,
Through the reflection of a black eye.

Emerging from the gravityless black hole,
While ashes burning in dead heart coal.
Felt the untouched sense and dryness,
While lying down in that watery cloudiness.

Shattering of the striking pain,
And the dreams all in vain.
Fell down with the droplets of smoke,
To devastate my world and it broke.

Was it really a dream cloud ?
Made by the imagination of my vision.
Or the navigation of my lost vector !
But surely it was under one supervision.

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