Startled,
Awakened,
By ominous dreams.

Dreams,
where the ground is strewn
with black beads
and the sky is the color,
of what could only be,
burnt blood.

Dreams,
where the sound
of muffeled voices,
from ever closing distances,
speak indiscernible tongues.

Dreams, where what little sun light
there was, is obscured
by flocks of ravens,
descending towards,
unknown destinies.