"a former dream"
I too once marvelled at the shimmer of lift,
Mistaking ascension for a kind of gift.
But wings are not answers—they're questions in disguise,
And every rise comes with a price.
The sky is not cruel, just indifferent in hue,
It watched as I flew—and then withdrew.
Now, grounded not by grief, but grace,
I trace the burn marks time can’t erase.
We did listen… just not soon enough.
The truth, like altitude, always feels rough.
Yet in every fall, there’s a lesson to glean—
Even ashes carry a dream's former sheen.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 14th, 2025 05:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Damaso
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Comments9
This piece invites you into a quiet reckoning; where flight meets reflection, and the sky becomes more than backdrop- “a former dream” doesn’t ask for answers, but offers something deeper: the shimmer of insight after descent.
Read it slowly. Let it settle. Then share—what do we carry after the fall?
I loved the poem but particularly the last line. But come on Cryptic you know as an old man my eyes aren't what they used to be and the size of the print on this one pushed me to the limit.
I know, it’s bothering me as well! Let me try to sort it out 🕊️🙏🏻
There, the font size has been adjusted👍🏻
To me this comes across as learning from our mistakes, otherwise the effort we put into making those mistakes is wasted, I know that is probably not it, but that's what I see. Nicely crafted and a lovely gentle read, enjoyed
Now that\'s beautiful, Tobani! It\'s all part of the mix. And don't ever belittle your gut interpretation 👍🙏🏻🕊️
Something 'deeper'? How will my 3 brain cells comprehend that?! lol. Fido will know of course - he has 300 billion brain cells.
Sometimes we just feel it O... understanding surfaces decades later if we are so lucky 🍀
Ah' YES, now I see .. I get it .. call that a coincidence .. or WOT .. Distinctly brill .. Neville
Synchronicity... Carl Jung keeps popping up! He was the dark horse during my psych days.
The reckoning settled in as a read, for real…you really capture what’s left after the flight ends...and how even the ashes can hold a glint of what was. This, as I see it, is a profound truth. All the same, I truly appreciate the insight here, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
We did fly... and the soar was exhilarating.... while it lasted... memories of the rickety adjustable $10 roller skates barreling downhill to certain death in the last days of elementary school... that was a rush!
I can almost feel the wind rushing by at the same time the adrenaline is pumping through your beating heart! Those were the days indeed. Rock on, my dear friend.
Haha, yes, the scars and memories attest to them days😆👍
Yes! I have few scars myself! 🤪
Stuff of poetry, they are!
For sure!
We always arise from our lives arqios.
Andy
Hello arqios,
To err on the side of flight is a great lesson when suddenly grounded as I can surely attest to - bloodied knees, elbows and pride. I'm very fond of this poem and thank you very much for sharing. A unique observation to delight any reader.
Kind regards,
Tony.
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