VertigoA Poem by RonaldoThe weight of dreamsOh, this vertigo! This desire to fall and for all these Dreams to be wrestled from me.
Oh! would I rise so high! Oh, could I rise so high! Rise above this boiling sea, with its brandished waves that swirls and enslaves my nights to days and my days to nights. Oh, could I rise so high with fists that shake the infinite sky, and splinter a piece of eternity.
But why?
Only to know the vastness of the depths I'm fated to sink and edify?
The depths, with their ominous calls. The depths. They, that now lay siege upon my soul. "How long?", they howl, "Can these winds of toil keep you abreast?"
I can attest. I am tired of this flight. The immensity of the heights buries me deep. So deep I'm steeped, and these wings now bereft, too frail to sustain this vision's heft.
These rags, my King's disguise, my crown of dreams, cast from the mare's nest, plucked from the absence, blind. I'm torn across two poles, my smallness, my haunting immensity, Strung into this toil untimed, with fruit of stones that fall from my heart and fragment my bones.
Oh my urchin heart! So quick with your flood of infatuated passions, and I, so long with their labored crawl.
To Delilah's lap I'll fall. My strength, my secrets, a small price for her sweetness. Unburden me from Freedom's weight Oh Priestess, with your alluring serenade. For I'll never touch eternity's gate, Nor will the stars ever promenade. Born of the nothing, only to return, to the nothing.
Oh! it is only this wall of difficult dreams that separates me from the rest of the dead. © 2018 RonaldoAuthor's Note
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