shadows

From deep within my voids,
come dreams so true,
petals so soft, i dare not touch,
or the dream break

the mind sees,
what fills the voids, i smell the air,
with baited breath,
or my mirage fly away

my eyes are shut,
i caress the song, and drift afloat,
on fathomless voids

so pure and bright,
i loose my self ,
more real than real, my visions alive

so the mind plays,
a game with self ,
voids overflow, with colours and smells

a blizzard blows,
and i wake up,
the voids are empty,
the magician dead

i want to sleep,
with sand in my eyes,
i see in the dark,
shadows of my mind

i dare not dream
or the flowers bloom,
and petals swirl,
in my fathomless voids

Comments

Anonymous said…
there had been a tradition in english literary scene called 'existentialism'. i feel that your verses are deeply coloured by that school of creativity. it seems that the poet is in constant voyage within himself, introspecting, dissecting his feelings in a desperate attempt to capture the nuances of his fleeting visions. as said earlier, the poetic effusions are garbed in richness of expressions-a feast for imagination as well as for literary aesthetiticism.

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