From the threshold of my dreams.
Deeply dampened by shame ,
clouded by fears .
Educated , but colloquial be damned
trying to keep the door cracked open .
Weeping for a woman
I did not know
from a time I am not from .
Quiet pride and pretty grace
drenched in the purest sorrow.
She was righteous among
the chosen .
Not a lot of noise as I
pass through the years .
Though I feel the Earth’s vibrations.
I feel the blood of the Earth .
Clouded by the winds desperate vision
and the silvery quiet of dawn .
I am looking for promises
I need to believe .
As I exit from my dreams
through the crack in the door .
Maybe I’m ready to make
some noise .
-
Author:
WL (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2018 23:39
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 54
Offline)
Comments5
"Quiet Pride & Pretty Grace
Drenched in the Purist Sorrow."
That's Beautiful.
Love the way this is brought together by that last verse - great work Bill
Very good write, may that crack show you the beauty of your dreams.
Wonderful artwork.
So well written, and the last stanza says it all!
The tree, standing there
Lonely and lifelessly
Waiting for Spring to come
Leaves will filled the branches
Make it live again
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