Dream

Shall we name the birch of the tree,

That wrestles wind upon the moor,

Given to it the birth of three,

A strike to flee through the corridor.

Let Death wander through its shade,

And rest against the eyes of thee,

Beseech the loss of faith in all the hearts that beat.

Does He whisper the shrillest screams.

The sky shattered into a billion and one,

Pebbles crumbled of tethered bones,

The forlorn moon weeps tears onto the petals,

Of the vines of walls perching up into a safe home.

Often do we see the Sun bathe,

In the shade of darkness, when to us, its light,

Save us the sleep to keep from storms at night,

Lets us scurry along as puny frightened mice.

Stars do mimic our sorrow best

The glimmer they shine show us what the rest,

Think who we are but what we are is instead,

The gloom that reminds us of creatures we have met.

~Ramsha

Author's Note

Let me know what you think of it;)

Reviews

[knighngale]

wow, that's a great poem. I love the imagery of the tree, it's really scary, and the moors and all this imagery, great read! :D