The Witness of an Otherworldly Crime

I have dreamed of this dream a thousand times,

They were all screaming " Let him be, for his soul is mine."

.....

In a vista of reality where truth is fiction,

And memory slips like butter on a hot pan with no friction,

I have stood witness to an otherworldly crime,

Where they all were screaming, "Let him be, for his soul is mine."

In a zone where time runs its course not unlike a river,

And vision plays tricks on your mind until you shiver,

That is where I was a witness to the otherworldly crime,

While they cried " Let him be, for his soul is mine."

A thinly veiled world lies within us, only separated by a higher entity,

Deep if you look for long, that veil may disappear, for all to see.

Too long have I delved beyond that veil, out of boundary lines,

Still I hear the cries in my mind" Let him be, for his soul is mine."

A stormy day it was, with a bleak sky and crying winds,

On a circle stood the man, surrounded by a blue creek.

Folks of a different ilk faced the ill-fated man out of time,

It was their voices that chanted " Let him be, for his soul is mine."

Long ago had I seen the fire and heard the scream,

As a nightmare that sticks with you through thick and thin,

But lately a horrifying realization engulfs my remaining wits,

Not to a dream was I a witness, but to a reality it sits.

That the screams that echoed, echoed through these very lands,

And I stood there, amid the fire, with two empty hands,

Crying, " Let him be, for his soul is mine"

That was the day I stood witness to an otherworldly crime,