One Last Dream
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written for the contest sponsored by tom woody. If there's one thing i could change, it would be for darkness to be a distant myth, and mental health and other health issues to fade... could it be wishful thinking? As iv seen too many suffer and struggle in silence and more, I wish and pray for better days.
To shivering seas
mirroring cracked crystals,
I am searching for a righteous rhyme,
to orchestrate eclipsed realms
with blue orchids
and plum blossoms,
singing sunflower symphonies
of blooming poetry,
wishing darkness
would be a distant memory.
If only I could change the tunes
of diabolical dialects,
and swipe away twisted tendrils,
veiling your vision from embracing
the colors of nature that
unfold diamond dreams.
Perhaps, then the vicious
voices echoing within your mind,
would turn into a chorus
of euphonious euphoria.
But I’m still standing at
the cusp of withering muteness,
staring at the same
sun and moon,
watching wildflower
wishes marinate
in the aftermath of
paralyzed insignificance.
For I can read the unspoken
tales of tainted tears,
like suppressed reflections
of scriptures untold~
floating beneath
honey-glazed smiles,
as hope has long
been a featherless lie,
wrapped in false promises of
golden sunsets that seems
like a cynical tactic,
to drown healing heartbeats
in demonic drumrolls.
Today, as the light fades,
I slowly caress
the raining truth,
wishing I could
change bitter breezes,
and seed periwinkle dreams
with perfumed prose.
Perhaps then the sky would
unravel an eternal
garden of amethyst butterflies,
where mental health illness
is nothing but a familiar myth;
folklore woven
in fragmented negligence.
Although I’ve seen too many
hearts grieving,
tethered to scattered
ashes of emotional impurities,
pondering if life is
meant to be a
meaningless marathon,
with no perfect finishing line,
as you run, merely content,
and breathless,
lingering within shadowed
shackles of society,
seeking a reason to exist,
without illusive masquerades,
where stars are seen
crooning chaos
of reality in cold refrains.
Tomorrow, when I’m gone,
away from this nebulous albatross,
remember my displaced dialogues,
these are words of a dreamer,
dressed in dainty daffodils,
wishing for ivory specks of clemency~
to rise above the nefarious imagery,
painted artfully by the
heinous hands of calamities.
In every sickness, there’s a remedy,
and health does reveal
roseate revelations,
kinetically swerving
through hydrated hymns
of peace lilies,
engraved as shimmering
serenity within one’s soul and mind.
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
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