The Dream RoomAnd so I continue this vague, static journey, Through corridors of distractions and locked doors. Blurred apparitions block what is in front of me, Regrets and remorse infect me like ugly sores.The Dream Room
I do not know who I am looking for, all I know Is they are here in this cluttered labyrinth, somewhere Must exist the form, the substance of this shadow. Above winding stairs, outside of the cellar of despair.
Until I find it, I shall roam the dusty halls tirelessly, Chasing whispers, snatches and echoes, precious slivers. Continually lifting myself from the abyss of jealously,
AquariusI stride serenely across the pallid terrain, towards the void, A huge, gaping void, stretched and wide across everything. Barefoot I go, the grains pass into the air like powder, Or ashes of the past, lingering remnants between my toes.Aquarius
The sky ahead of me blurs into a brash auburn, loud yet hushed, With streaks of nebulous purple, painted into the sky like guiding lights, And the clouds congealing into red and pink candy-floss, bursts of crayon. It reminds me of the games of our childhood, eyes fixed on clouds just long enough For them to become something else.
Alone and una
The AwakeningIt’s an elusive creature, that creative spark. That sudden flash of fragments, of moments melted away In the intrusive heat of the “real world”, ideas lost in the dark After the cycle of the same steps, the inveterate routine, ends the day.The Awakening
Long may the beast slumber if one does not stop and ponder The potential in everything around them, be it rushing or lifeless If one detours from their usual path, or just stop to stare in wonder They will realise the creative potential that the world itself may possess.
***
Look at the eyes that are pools of personal
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I read once about a woman whose secret fantasy was to have an affair with an artist. She thought he would really see her. He would see every curve, every line, every indentation and love them because they were part of the beauty that made her unique.
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