If I Could Pray

If I could pray, then I would pray for strength, the strength of courage in the face of fear, for in a dream I saw a dreadful sight, as it was I laid there upon the bier. A night of fog had settled on the view, obscuring all I ever thought I knew, and there was only silence in that place, the spirit fled with not a single trace. And no attendant ghosts had come to grieve, within a barren forest stripped and bleak, and not a breath of wind disturbed the trees, but all was cloaked within a strange mystique. The dream subsided as the darkness fell, beyond the mist of dim and dreadful night, and only then did I perceive a sound, where tolling bells proclaimed the final rite.