"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: 2
Offline)
Comments3
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👍🏻
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