Swirling Colors of Black and White

Just an image of a dream I came up with in art class when listening to a song (which has nothing n common with this poem)

The checkered panels twist around the black hole of dread.

Black seeds sprout in the darkness of time.

Your souls crush leaves and clap upon pavement.

The clapping echoes through the hall of the forest.

Air trapped in your lungs build pressure from the inside out.

Bodies beckon as dark branches try to grasp you.

Dark figures wind in the cold wind, caressing the warm air.

 

Screams echo through the deepest hollows.

Blood curdling screams that come from the faces of trees,

Frozen in time in the bark.

Dark, dark bark from the soil and the moon.

Hammers blacken the blacksmith’s wrought iron bars,

Sending sparks in the night,

And crackles flaring through dark crevices long forgotten.

The waves of sound ripple through the darkness of time.

 

The sky is swirling colors of black and white.

Leaves ruffle in the sea breeze as the door to the galaxy closes behind you.

Swirling, swaying, swinging lights from stars that blind and burn.

Suddenly the sun breaks the horizon’s jagged outline

Of buildings and branches.

It pierces the night’s shadow-cast.

The trees writhe at the warm glow.

The orange glow melting dusk into dawn,

Ice into lemon drops,

And screams into maple syrup.

Black turns to green, and gray turns to orange.

A stairway rises into the horizon,

Casting the darkness of time into the starry

Fire that came from the depths of your mind.

Author's Note

I meant to write "souls", not "soles"