I hear voices,

Familiar voices

Of agonizing tones,

In an apocalyptic zone,

Within a zone,

Within a zone.

 

I look around

And I’m not alone.

There are saviors,

Rangers, rescuers,

Fighters and warriors.

There are also cries

For immediate help

Echoing all around;

Growing count of

Unquiet worriers

Feeling unsound.

 

My little finger

Brushes a hand

That quickly releases

Tension off my soul,

Surely somebody

Who plays a major role;

The face is unclear,

Even with all the  

Light that appeared.

 

Slow dropping and

Dieng doleful voices

Gives rise to a new fear,

Am I going to lose

This hand that’s

Near and dear?

 

I feel a crack

Beneath my feet

Stretching beyond

The visible boundary,

Producing immense heat.

 

It pushes me

Off my stance,

Giving me a short

And final glance

Of the hole in the ground

Taking my dear one down

In the magma stream,

As I echoingly scream

In a seamless dream

Within a dream,

Within a dream.