Usually, I dream in three-dimensions and colour,
but last night they were in black and white.
There were no shades or hints of grey anywhere,
but then suddenly white disappeared from sight.
I lay waiting for colour to return to my viewing,
for I was at a loss in this place without light.
My thought processes were still functioning,
but I began to doubt if my mind was alright.
I tried to think about this situation logically.
Why was my visual spark refusing to ignite?
Could this be the beginning of the end of my life?
Why do things like this always happen at night?
Trying to imagine without vision was impossible,
but I wasn't going to give up without a fight.
Whilst I lay questioning my mental integrity,
colour returned in a flash to my thoughts and sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem