Of Fear and Madness (Part 1)

Each night after I close my eyes
After slowly drifting off to sleep
I wonder the galleries of my mind
Each hewn from gothic marble
Their walls are lined with images
Depicting, in vivid detail, a memory
Some so clear I can touch them, feel them
I can only illuminate them individually
Dim is the light from candelabrum I carry
I stand in front of each eidetic image
All of my senses are awakened
So many paths avail themselves
Some are clear well traveled
Their walls are clean and unspoiled
Their tiled floors are well kept
In these corridors my dreams are born
Some paths, however, are dark  
Lifeless brier covers their arches
Their walls are cracked and sullied
Twisted vines push through the floors
In these baleful places dwell my nightmares
I can not control my chosen path
Nor can I choose the image I stop at
Fate will bring my guide to me
Eudaemon, or belial as Skuld finds