changeling
evolving
journeying
from
pre-conception
mis-conception
immaculate conception
to post-partum
afterlife
travellers
engaging with pilgrims
seeking direction
trying to understand
nuances of relationship
between themselves and humankind
spiralling through vortices
and
mirrored portals to
a life of
clouded memory moments
lions salivating
blooded claws
eager to rip the straightjacketed soul
open
to explosions of truth
and invert the inverted drawer
exposing the convenient
lies that protect us
from the self-accusing soul
knowing we are born of choice
and sin
inevitably our bodies betray
the creator's design
through his eye of perceived benign benevolance.
empty dreams and visions
of moments
before time made us grow old
dimming vision of past joy
indulged, saved, in a treasure chest
with
baubles , bangles
beads of sweat
dripping relentlessly through
our hourglass
puddling in our slowing wake
up and know that love is tainted
before it begins.
before it started
after the dream of you
was the single star
beside the morning moon
that we shared
even when apart
was lost
in the tattered vision
of
perceived beauty
love died
reduced to triviality.
history killed it.
buried it, beneath a mountain
of hallmark cards
and internet memes.
this is the stuff of nightsweat dreams
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
changeling
evolving
journeying
from
pre-conception
mis-conception
immaculate conception
to post-partum
afterlife
travellers
engaging with pilgrims
seeking direction
trying to understand
nuances of relationship
between themselves and humankind
spiralling through vortices
and
mirrored portals to
a life of
clouded memory moments
lions salivating
blooded claws
eager to rip the straightjacketed soul
open
to explosions of truth
and invert the inverted drawer
exposing the convenient
lies that protect us
from the self-accusing soul
knowing we are born of choice
and sin
inevitably our bodies betray
the creator's design
through his eye of perceived benign benevolance.
empty dreams and visions
of moments
before time made us grow old
dimming vision of past joy
indulged, saved, in a treasure chest
with
baubles , bangles
beads of sweat
dripping relentlessly through
our hourglass
puddling in our slowing wake
up and know that love is tainted
before it begins.
before it started
after the dream of you
was the single star
beside the morning moon
that we shared
even when apart
was lost
in the tattered vision
of
perceived beauty
love died
reduced to triviality.
history killed it.
buried it, beneath a mountain
of hallmark cards
and internet memes.
this is the stuff of nightsweat dreams