I found this one which is highly appropriate for my game. Although I obviously can't use it in the game, it has inspired me to include the idea as part of the plotline. XD
Quote:
DEAR PRIORI,
IF DEATH IS SLEEP, I WILL DREAM OF YOU FOREVER. In dreams, you are a goddess and I am a slave to the exercise of my mind. I sleep, my body thrashes, my mind races to conjure you and hold you still. You arise, embodied, then slip into layers of shadow and nerve. You are impenetrable, doing as you please, hovering beyond my reach. Where do you live? Is death the only door, and therefore the final paradox? I pass through it, toward you, but lose my mortal body at the threshold and so dream no more. Your lips kiss darkness into my eyes. Here I wake to morning. Light weakens love.
Apparitions dissolve into motes of dust, the scraps of memory. To concentrate on resurrecting you is to lose you in too tight a grip. Awake, I cannot retrace even the last seconds, cannot enter the dreamworld backward. I can only go forward, the day a blank sheet of paper I must tread, scuffing black letters to you as the planet turns so dumbly away from the light. I run on the side of the road. Gravel sprays from my heels. Mud licks my back. I fall forward, shedding energy for the promise of exhaustion. I shower and eat a heavy meal as if I am leaving for a trip. You drape yourself within my mind, and mouth entreaties to me. Or are they warnings? I close my eyes. How do I follow? Tell me the secret!
IF DEATH IS SLEEP, I WILL DREAM OF YOU FOREVER. In dreams, you are a goddess and I am a slave to the exercise of my mind. I sleep, my body thrashes, my mind races to conjure you and hold you still. You arise, embodied, then slip into layers of shadow and nerve. You are impenetrable, doing as you please, hovering beyond my reach. Where do you live? Is death the only door, and therefore the final paradox? I pass through it, toward you, but lose my mortal body at the threshold and so dream no more. Your lips kiss darkness into my eyes. Here I wake to morning. Light weakens love.
Apparitions dissolve into motes of dust, the scraps of memory. To concentrate on resurrecting you is to lose you in too tight a grip. Awake, I cannot retrace even the last seconds, cannot enter the dreamworld backward. I can only go forward, the day a blank sheet of paper I must tread, scuffing black letters to you as the planet turns so dumbly away from the light. I run on the side of the road. Gravel sprays from my heels. Mud licks my back. I fall forward, shedding energy for the promise of exhaustion. I shower and eat a heavy meal as if I am leaving for a trip. You drape yourself within my mind, and mouth entreaties to me. Or are they warnings? I close my eyes. How do I follow? Tell me the secret!
