The Procession of Images

Everyone else is wearing their purple and red hooded cape. Barely I can see anyone else’s face. A familiar scene where some are holding images and carriage of statues. Walking slowly, I found myself in the procession, blending into the crowd.

There is not much spectators on the road, rather all was dim and the silhouette of the church building with candles lit all over the facade. I gazed upon the heavens and the moon was full. Trying to get out of the endless procession, something was pulling me back into the line. I cannot get out.

Oh, I recognized one face, he too was confused about what’s happening. I called upon his name, a name that is so dear to me. “Darling,” I said. He heard me, looked to me and was delighted. He ran past through the others and tried to reach his hand to me.

Suddenly, the procession was virtually fading into the darkness. All was left was a straight, empty path before me. Seems endless, and uncertain.

Then he woke me up. Its 3:29AM. I need to open the door.

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