Illusions and visions
in between lines,
I waltz through a candlelit ballroom
with a man unfamiliar to time.
A city that I have never touched,
calls as if-
I could call it mine,
or perhaps my soul
has forever belonged there?
Fate must have woven
into the lace of my stoytelling.
For I ache to be there.
It hums-
unseen presence beside me.
Darker, deeper-
They were tortured and burned,
Guess who?
They called them 'Witches'.
When they didn't understand the divine.
And still-
My soul lingers,
to the unknown where no one visits,
Gatekeeper of places you fear.
-
Author:
Cynthia Seven (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2026 18:32
- Comment from author about the poem: A feeling that I could not explain more than writing a poem.
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments2
Here are dark shadows of a black history and it seems almost a dream. It's feeling is somewhat sad and accusatory. Well written
Thank you so much for appreciating, it motivates me to write more. It really means a lot.
You are most welcome
Loved it
Thank you sir.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.