The room was black and cold a voice from deep inside presented itself You and I have to talk I am your soul Slivers of image danced in ghost like forms on the walls A quorum of values lent themselves to the fold Like the story teller you are we are here to learn Daniel Webster from nowhere appeared I shall represent you my son you are in trouble Try as I might from this dream I could not wake Rivers of thought played and stayed in full view for all In the foolish of the youth I had lived, the hurt and the pride Silly worthless lies played before me creating a past being lived From the pages of my life many came forward hurt and loved by words I said in anger and in grief, false witness laid heavy on me from all directions Then one by one a multitude of voices appeared each giving value to my existence From small gifts given both in words and physical relief each a mire drop of saving water A hand laid on my shoulder dad I need you please help me I hurt inside my dreams make me cry I awake from this wired foolish dream to my son holding on to me for dear life, I swear in the back ground I saw