Baskadia

At night after a deep sleep,

I dreamt of the lost sheep,

Stabbed with an arrow so deep,

bleeding uncontrollably in a trap,

Without a saviour to make it stop,

Then I saw a fortune of wealth,

Glowing out of the bleeding wrath,

With a Leatherman cloth,

With written words embracing Lilith,

To Hail the light for supper growth,

Indeed I had no choice to overcome,

the blame challenge to over consume,

Especially to poverty curse programme,

Again to customize my life purpose,

From achieving the treasure of Fame,

Now,

I was into the books of the sacred,

Making appoints with the mastered,

In the secret temple of the invisible,

Making changes in building castles.