There is an ageless spiderweb of paradise in grey.
Where each moment old memories
Fade each fogged way.
Empty windows spill to in-betweens of silver chalk
To paradox perimeters,
Shapes that can't be walked.
Buildings of all sizes stretch to timeless leagues in sprawl,
And from out past the shrouding mist
Onward comes the call;
Which lonely carries question to each musty hall and nook.
Beckons toward decay unclaimed,
To further onward look.
This labyrinthine purgatory is mirthless,
Kinless,
Old.
But that is every place and fate when all is done and told.
There is here silent abandon coated in ashen dust
Waits patient as all dream spaces
Oxidize to rust.
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: September 26th, 2022 12:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments1
Oh cheer me up, why don't you?
I do see a truth there (I think) - all is dust (your word) eventually, at end point.
Neat write.
Thanks!
This is about a weird plane of existence made of fog and abandoned buildings - that stretches forever. I dream of it a lot.
Agree it's weird, but as a dream I understand it perfectly. Most of mine have that feel and are so surreal I have no chance of relating them.
Take care.
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