The darkness is a blanket leading to oblivion;
The mystery of the wind is a whisper in motion.
For the leaves fall in the cup of absolution;
Dead: the place of imagination,
Becomes a dwelling for a sight unborn.
The stranger offered me a dream;
Infinity’s marriage to the pitch-darkness of the stream.
And melting hearts flinching from the brim;
Inner peace borne of twitching irony, it fades unclean.
As I scream for music’s grace, I am in pain.
Imprisoned sweetness clouded by entirety
For a love unexpressed, I descend to obscurity.
At the corner, the clock ticks away from me
So many vines entangled in my own sanity:
Bleeding, pleading, and hanging sway.
Against the living, feet running;
Inch by inch he traveled nothing.
The stump he clutched with hurtful mourning,
Standing before himself borne no warning;
The power of motion was out floating.
Here lies a street urchin – to the path he’s gone on.
For a drop of the senses, he fell head on.
The wish to speak, to hear, to see;
On the floor broken still, on the walls smeary.
Life’s like this for those who play it daily.
Dreams abound amidst your agony.
For the people in this poetry are in dismay.
You failed to envision what lies in the day,
Ranting and lonely while dreamers waste away.
Just think of how you are lucky, passing the day in gay.
That we may learn how to be grateful of what we have during this time and be considerate to those who are dreaming to have what we have.
Read all of my COVID-19 poetry here.
Image by Quang Nguyen vinh from Pixabay Dream Catcher Vectors by Vecteezy