[ encore - 3: ] closed eyelids
pine cones and pine needles and
black ashes and white ashes and
clouded skies and starry skies and
flames that stole your eyes.
dreaming, so close to the waves of a crashing ocean
that stood guard by the end of
crowded paths from the fading summertide
to the growing fall.
even the clock's call fell on deaf ears
that strained to catch the scent of red cedars.
in between the new silences i built a fort out of smiles and lights,
and let it ripple across the seas to crash against an empty horizon.
i wrote a song with cracking wood and relentless rains
and i crawled into it and dreamed of reality,
where i grew wings and flew low across the mirrored surface
of the same sea i opened my eyes to.
midnight equaled to morning,
and wild thoughts to corporeality.
a/n:
for round 3 of "encore", a poetry contest by dissonance_
based on arthur shaugnessy's quote:
"we are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."
first again. i'm dying.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
