solitary dream.

A deep sleep

in winter’s canyon

turned away to the solitary dream—

where it is

systematic before a silence

of grief;

the canticle is seen through other eyes,

not mine, and I don’t understand a word,

whispers press

unmourned in your eyes,

the trace of winter

hungry in different hungers

despite the reverence of red fields

of loss,

it’s in the prism

as if in a dream…

inside the vacuity of demise

through the blustering of discontent,

an infinite blue to the construct

of the bear’s shudder

across the trees,

this absence of fear

means no less to me

than of emotion,

and the stillness of silence

we can provide

as the darkness cherries

the blossoms mother planted

equated to death overtime

soon empty and far away

as the year of solitude

to the leaves—

the sleep-synchronizing

into images

of permanence

as if in a dream…

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36 thoughts on “solitary dream.”

  1. This is my fave part: “whispers press unmourned in your eyes”–Oh I love it so much, 5-Star!…and I confess it’s another of the “wish I’d written it” category 🙂 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

      1. Oh, it’s never flattery from these lips, er pen, er keyboard, haha!! My heart speaks the truth always–Bless you!!!

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much. I am very happy you liked that line! I was skeptical about it and almost cut it out of the poem. I’m glad I changed my mind at the last second. 😃

      Liked by 1 person

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