Often, these dreams pierce the veil,
between sadness and bliss.
Armies cross
bliss is defenseless
I wake up cold
My steps feel the weight of the stone floor
out to the window, my dreams take me…
Even awake, dreams command my vision.
The world is blind to me and I am blind to the world.
They do not bear my dreams and I do not know their torment.
If they knew my dreams,
they would carry me forward
hands on my hand
we move the bricks together
sight for sight
blindness for blindness
dreams for truth
The strange warmth of fellowship fades in loneliness,
as if it were antidote… or poison.
Still, the memories linger
sparking
yearning to blaze
but they cannot provide warmth
for they are dreams
and fires must feed on flesh.
The armies continue to pour
from somberness into bliss
the fires wink out softly
my eyes dull; my dreams fade.
And for once, I see what they all saw…
Darkness.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
Often, these dreams pierce the veil,
between sadness and bliss.
Armies cross
bliss is defenseless
I wake up cold
My steps feel the weight of the stone floor
out to the window, my dreams take me…
Even awake, dreams command my vision.
The world is blind to me and I am blind to the world.
They do not bear my dreams and I do not know their torment.
If they knew my dreams,
they would carry me forward
hands on my hand
we move the bricks together
sight for sight
blindness for blindness
dreams for truth
The strange warmth of fellowship fades in loneliness,
as if it were antidote… or poison.
Still, the memories linger
sparking
yearning to blaze
but they cannot provide warmth
for they are dreams
and fires must feed on flesh.
The armies continue to pour
from somberness into bliss
the fires wink out softly
my eyes dull; my dreams fade.
And for once, I see what they all saw…
Darkness.
So, this poem ends on a dark note, like many of my poems, but it's the type of note that I'm not sure about.
Still, what I am sure of is, the message is about conformity and losing sight of ideals in place of stasis, or regression.
Things like, "I don't give a f**k."
Or, "I can't be bothered."
Even, "F**k you and the horse you rode in on."
These can be funny to consider, especially in a movie.
However, in real life, the tone is different:
it's why "motive" is so important to a police investigation.
If someone cheats on you, is it because you were an *******
or was it because the person is an unabashed cheater who lied to you, every, day?
Boo-hoo, right?
That's what I wanted to touch on in this poem.
So, without further ado...
Enjoy!
DEW
