Spirits hold many forms.
Demotic, angelic, humanness, and maybe animal.
From what young eyes saw once before in a land far from mortal's sight.
It is true.
On a fine border line of realties, across a river of souls, nearing the banks of rock and sand, and down the many roads, through a village unlike any other.
Detailed with vivid, wild yet tame, mixed, and stand alone colors graced upon skies, buildings, plants, water, and even the very beings that lived within.
All working as what humans could do, in their own ways, yet, so much more beautiful.
But in all of its phenomenal, it holds an undertone, tinted, gray mist of a curse.
For all of those who once live within this world, the chances of leaving are very unlikely.
When a once given name is magically taken and changed into another, the one flaw of it.
You must not forget it, or forever stuck in that sweet world.
Even with the sweetness fades into a dull joy, the chances of leaving may never come.
A mistake many have made and not come close of knowing it.
Along with other choices made, be it by mistake or unknowing it was a mistake in the first place.
To where you just want to open your eyes and see it only as a dream.
Nothing but a dream.
A dream that grips the body from never leaving.
In time, in what feels forever, the dream will fade.
You have forgotten you were once were or have finally found a way out.
Trapped forever in the realm of spirits.
All of the winds that drawn the bodies into it, tracing the eyes in an endless walk, and whispering words of calm and soothing matter.
Break away if you can, once reaching to the side of fantasy, there is little chance of getting away.
If lucky enough, a good, kind heart, soft speaking spirit will hold out a hand to you.
Grab for it, pull it near, lips words kindly for help.
And then, and only then, will you coax home far all this.
That is if you can find that helper before it's too late.