I dreamt of you

I dreamt of you. How many have you dreamed of? Thy countenance is very beautyfull. For you are as the memory of Goddess, who frozened in your every cell. I dreamt of you In dreary gothic halls off my temples clenched all night as sharped screws, because attempts to describe are pathetic the intricate features of your look. I dreamed of you in the wee hours of the morning your eyes are look and smiling at me It didn't matter the rising dawn of a charred day. I dreamt of you with burning books around of the last libraries on the earth plane and their flames seemed to me a commonplace, as short as the age of a man are fast. I dreamt of you. How many dreams have you had? And at the edge of dear home My learning of the gospel of pain How to live a life with purpose, not alone.