A Whimsical Poem

T’was a night in the swirling, humid middle of June,
And I, the sad story of a woman, asleep in my room,
Saw a figure; gleaming bright
And it t’was awaking me in the darkest of nights.
I wondered cross the lawn, nightgown billowing behind,
Sure this ghostly orb I can see was a trick of a wizard’s mind.
As I approached it, began I to hold my breath,
But the cool, fresh air still wriggled into my chest.
The colours be a’ swarming, like a liquid rainbow,
This glassy ball is filled with mystical water that glowed.
E’rything was dead; so it caught my subconscious off-guard,
For then the silence shattered into a million shards.
The colours were burning, dancing around in my favour,
Each fragment of light transformed into a saviour.
A thousand gleaming angels, an optical illusion!
A million pixies were treading into my vision.
They told me of life, love, why I live!
They filtered through my thoughts, as if using a sieve.
“Does life have a meaning?” they sung in a song,
“Is life a million beings gone drastically wrong?”
That’s when these illuminated hallucinations
That was bewildering my bewitched imagination,
Started to melt, fading till a puddle remained,
Some neon wax solutions eerily send from the grave,
Returned to the orb; souls swimming around,
And only I knew of the power I’d found.
For this innocent bubble concealing angry phantoms
Were trying to teach me to sing my life’s anthem.
And when I awoke from what had been only a dream,
Deep in my heart an intense feeling spread through my arteries.
Young blood pulsing through me, I knew what to do.
I had potential, so I put it to use.
So watch your actions, or on a peacefull night in June,
In your dreams a hell-bent bubble just might come to visit you.