8/4/2021
When I close my eyes I see worlds resplended,
ones that I cannot fully appreaciate or delve into
for the oblivion in dreams denies me the clarity.
The realisation that I'm free to roam my mind's
galaxies.
To immerse myself in my own synthetic adventures
full of all my heart's desires, so easy to reach
like low hanging fruit.
And yet every time I stretch my arm pick it,
I shrink, lower and lower until the humble
apple tree turns into a great sequoia.
And so, life in dreams becomes as
uncontrollable as the one of the waking world
leaving everything to chance,
whether it's a sweet reverie or an agonizing
nightmare.
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ
Poetry𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨 (n.) 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘤 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯; 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘰𝘯 Poems posted daily, for every day of the year. Works of an undefined theme with a touch of fantastical elements as well as a healthy dose of r...
