I am dead and alive in the same time and sometimes...
Facing the flame of this black sun that calls to me.
Driven from the scorched garden of childhood ,
I grew up in the realm of cold ,warming myself
by a meager fire made of mournful smiles ,
feeding the embers with memories that will never exist...
Poor scribbler who thought he was loved ...
Am I nothing more than this fragment of ash ,
stillborn in a waking dream ?
I saw so many stars fade away in the frozen
stare of dawn ...
I would have longed for the embrace
of a twilight murdered in sensual agony...
Light travels without beginning or return ,
leaving us encrypted mysteries
whose key lies beyond the last spark of passion...
Lady death always leaves her adress ,
never forgetting ,even if often
she postpones the appointment...
ans so ,I offer this poetic auto-da-fé
to the vast void of sublimated madness !
transcendent mind .
Life restored to the body .
I would rise again like this bird with fiery eyes
who fears not the blaze of appearances .
Enlightenment within the burning soul ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 6th, 2026 11:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Encrypted in the surreal it oozes out through the cracks of poetry. Nicely done Lorez
From the cracks of the poetry the bird of fire takes flight !
And as all poetry goes to ash to arise again and be reborn
Sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to start living again.
the phoenix reborn from a literary spark...
What a powerful piece, Lorenz. The whole poem feels like a ritual of burning away one self while another struggles toward the light…death, memory, madness, and transcendence all circling the same flame. Dark, strange, and compelling, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
We do not live only in the reality of who we were or we are but also in the reality of who we might have become...
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