The Dream that Was Left
Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2016 6:17 am
I laid my head down on the pillow,
Weary from the day.
I willed my mind to wander
Whither and e'er it may.
Perhaps that was my error,
To tarry in the dark.
To dally in the shadows
That overcome the spark.
The minutes lost their meaning,
The minutes became miles.
I closed my eyes, outflung the doors,
Climbed out into the stars.
The crowd became a circle,
The circle became a line.
A few lost souls holding bowls
Begging for some time.
I watched them from some corner
Of a vast and endless room,
Vying for the favors of
A terrifying womb.
They arrive here empty handed,
Yet each leaves bearing fruit,
Trading something of themselves
For a fleeting taste of truth.
One of the last to approach the cauldron,
I stopped and held my breath.
I reached into the waters
And withdrew a dream of death.
The apple shone with vigor,
Its skin was scarlet red.
I bit into the flesh and saw
The visions of the dead.
I saw the bridges burning,
The faces in the night,
I saw the stark and jarring scenes
Brought through by fire light.
I felt coldness creep into my limbs
Like a serpent in the grass.
I saw the silver cord fly loose,
I saw the shattered glass.
I felt the sting of shrapnel
And the edges of the sword.
My cup was filled with the trampled grapes
Of the garden of the Lord.
No child of Seth or Abel
Could conceive his countenance,
But i have seen the face of war
And have been paying ever since.
I travel far and wide to beg
For an ending, to be shriven,
But for me the end may never come
I am the Unforgiven.
I tarried in the garden,
Childless and bereft,
Looking for a dream
And took the one that God had left.
At the bottom of the garden,
I dreamed a dream of death.
Weary from the day.
I willed my mind to wander
Whither and e'er it may.
Perhaps that was my error,
To tarry in the dark.
To dally in the shadows
That overcome the spark.
The minutes lost their meaning,
The minutes became miles.
I closed my eyes, outflung the doors,
Climbed out into the stars.
The crowd became a circle,
The circle became a line.
A few lost souls holding bowls
Begging for some time.
I watched them from some corner
Of a vast and endless room,
Vying for the favors of
A terrifying womb.
They arrive here empty handed,
Yet each leaves bearing fruit,
Trading something of themselves
For a fleeting taste of truth.
One of the last to approach the cauldron,
I stopped and held my breath.
I reached into the waters
And withdrew a dream of death.
The apple shone with vigor,
Its skin was scarlet red.
I bit into the flesh and saw
The visions of the dead.
I saw the bridges burning,
The faces in the night,
I saw the stark and jarring scenes
Brought through by fire light.
I felt coldness creep into my limbs
Like a serpent in the grass.
I saw the silver cord fly loose,
I saw the shattered glass.
I felt the sting of shrapnel
And the edges of the sword.
My cup was filled with the trampled grapes
Of the garden of the Lord.
No child of Seth or Abel
Could conceive his countenance,
But i have seen the face of war
And have been paying ever since.
I travel far and wide to beg
For an ending, to be shriven,
But for me the end may never come
I am the Unforgiven.
I tarried in the garden,
Childless and bereft,
Looking for a dream
And took the one that God had left.
At the bottom of the garden,
I dreamed a dream of death.