A Sip of Fresh Hope

My dreams passed

with the first winter sigh.

My dreams, dedicated to you,

no longer persuade me to be happy.

I am called to solitude,

I live in non-existent reality,

in dreams that cannot die politely.

I lie on the rocky bottom,

I am comfortable on my personal island.

Tangled in the soft hands

of the first wind this season,

drowned in blood of the dying Sun,

I fall asleep without fear

that someone will give me a sip

of fresh hope.

I'm fine, I still miss that one thought

that would spark the future,

deceive the shadows,

conceive one soft sigh in me.

My beloved, let's dance

until our senses die in the embrace

of the green sky.

Let us wait for that last train

to the newly opened paradise.

Today I saw your reflection

in the mirror of the Moon,

I felt the sweet and sour scent of life

that was late for the introduction

to faith.

Ever since my heart became

a black crystal, I can see the time

my salty twilight left me.

And although you will be born

without a grudge,

I will touch the clouds

with my heart.

The memory will give me at least

one resurrected dream.

Reviews

[Pete]

i was taken away and lost in your words. you write beautifully with strong depth and feeling. we should all sip as such in heartbreak. wonderful piece ... :)

[Gideon X. A. Elson]

Enjoyed the visuals and message. Captured the pure heartache and reassignment of it all.

[M. J. Smith]

Bittersweet words. Sometimes relationships are not meant to be. But the heart wants what it wants and healing must take its own time and form. Beautiful images here. A scene well captured in the snapshot of a spoken song.