Shatter Dreams

Shatter Dreams

 

 

Now and again you would do a few poems if they are heard who’s to say? For my true art was cooking wants upon a time ago, then sorrow of a dream fade away  Dream again some would say,  turning to other things with wires and screens less human than I. Then wind changes with a wave of her hand. Now we sit here wondering where the time went, as I find myself on the floor, in the dark in undiscovered lands. Rooms lost, days gone, hour’s and minutes missing from one owns mind.   Dreams, shattered as glass falls, from the mirror, time stands still between the walls now covered with darkening skies.              

Breath is cold as winter’s night, no sun, no light will shine here. Laden eyes dim upon the shadow walls, waiting for that one last call. A poem is heard a story to tell for theirs nothing, but a large deep well.  The bottom is shallow as the water drips; the blackness fills it drip by drip. The bottom deep for there is no way out not by bucket or by hand. The coldness wraps you softly, gently as it lowers you down further bit by bit. The walls jagged and smooth watching the darkness in case you, lower as we fall. Wondering if there a bottom at all.

Water dripping down your arm, black as night yet you are calm. The smell is sweet, as runs down your arm.  Closing your eyes as you fall for the bucket that once carried you has been cut as you fall. Gently falling the last few feet, the darkness warm, the coldness you embraces. The time has come where dreamers end for now you're at peace without an end. No trumpets or horns with brilliant light just peace as fade into shadows of the wind.

Reviews

[...]

What I like about this it's start like realistic narrative. Your explanation of your of your job. And then. Your words are more impressionistic like we are in dreamland of your mind. It's personal and it's distinctive. I think this writing have some kind of magic.

[Shep]

Yes it was a sad period