Crimson Wings

<font face="georgia"> The dream had only begun, yet it captured me, kidnapped my soul, hypnotized me to obey. I walked along the banks of an unknown lake, searching for searching for searching for what? Somehow I knew. A black hole beckoned to me. I answered its call and leaped inside. I discovered a world of wrath. Anger blossomed all around me, teased me, screamed to me, called my name. Scanning the bloody horizon, I stumbled upon a desert. Cacti seemed to know the meaning of pain. In full bloom, its blossoms were scattered scorpions. Gazing past the scene, I noticed a pile of ashes. Sleeping beneath its blanket of myrrh, I encountered crimson wings, perfectly preserved. I contemplated its meaning. Was this possibly a symbol of immortality? Or an emblem of ennui? Before I could ponder further, the late firebird suddenly emerged. It seemed to have awakened from its slumber. The phoenix exposed its eyes and glimpsed my face. I felt the queen study my eyes, search for a sign of purity and innocence. After what seemed a dynasty of silence, the creature suggested it approved of me, as it bent down and once again scanned my face, attempting to convey some sort of message. I understood and settled myself onto the majestic creature. It was unlike any other experience I had previously encountered. We journeyed through ancient Egypt and Rome, we traveled and explored many prehistoric and outdated worlds. My memory can still conjure up those days. And today, I can still reflect, remember, when a world of wrath could be transformed into a utopia of bliss.</font>