We grew up overfed with tales of smoky dreams.
At some point our effervescence of faith escapes into thin air.
Our visions becomes a reflection of mirage emanating from an ambitious bloke.
Stuck in our cloud of pipe dreams,choking at the very overdose of it's information overload.

Drowning and wallowing deep in our wretched and pitiful thinking.
Losing our grip on moral sanity and sanctity, prior quantifying every essence of progress a fluke, disguised to set us up for a miserable fall.
Our emotional response to affection becomes feeble to any stimulus, credits to stabs by a thousand knives from life's downside,enough to leave one decimated.

At the very frail, weak and vulnerable mental state, the very wait for an impending closure of total doom.
A ray of sunlight drops on a spot engulfed by existing darkness, though not submerged by it.
It grew an inch bigger and brighter at every step leaning towards it, until darkness escaped its presence.
The dispersion of the white light held the revelation of the beautiful seven colors our lives are yet to see.
Beautiful colors tailored on the garments of success, while seven being a number of completeness.
©michael_snelder