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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #2215090
A poem that came to be about articulating an image I've clung to since childhood.
I always visualise the past,
on a backdrop of desert dunes,
The sky above is fading with oranges and purples,
consumed by the darkness that encircles,
conquered by the recurring moon.

A picture without origin,
somewhere never seen or travelled,
the mental construct most obscene,
a mystery to be unravelled.

The haunt of an orchestra,
that’s what takes me back,
plunged back into that image,
buried with feelings of the past.

It makes one yearn for youth,
It makes one fear the end,
To believe there’s a greater truth,
Not knowing it’s all pretend.

To peer through those eyes once more,
able to dream beyond the realm of sleep,
to seek answers behind every closed door,
not to accept a body ever so weak.

My soul shall carry this place,
through mortal decay, we’re bound,
awaiting death to release us from this cage,
granted wings that soar over tainted ground.

The message remains in the bottle,
to the darkened sands I must first go,
searching for resolution among forgotten lands,
traversing the divine ebb and flow.

Separated by another I feel,
without a silhouette to see,
the sensation is so surreal,
when I realise it’s not you,
who I’m looking for,
It’s always been me.

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