I know what forever is, it's the illusion of Light. Nothing lasts but my heart. There is no tunnel, no end in sight. I will be watching as every beautiful flower -- Conduits of love, keepers of Light -- Grow weak and wither before my wide eyes. The world fades and I am doomed to …
a whispered chord, no progression
I built my nest in a sand clock; safest haven, highest treetops.I took a gamble on this tall branch -- maybe it'll hold. I don't remember where came the first cracks, how immaculate glass stained. what stone made the first ripple on the river as she slept. eternities starving on my lap one of them …
through the cracks | whispered ramblings
Dearest reader, whomever you might be at this stage, welcome to another whispered ramblings. The last one of these posts I wrote was from October 2020, I am the lost and found. That feels like a lifetime ago, but it is probably more like five. I haven't written properly in quite a while, but this …
The mould and rot will lead the way.
I could not have imagined the extent to which dreams decay. The dreams that left, the present that ran away with the future; all is past. A silent death, a million trees falling in the forest, a world deprived of oxygen-- Not a sound. Not a wave. Nobody moved but me. My favourite snack now …
Time, again..
I am but a child, a daughter terrified I am fairly small yet I cannot hide I watch the stars high up in the sky As they all go out one by one The night keeps getting colder The days are no longer The Darkness has won I cannot see Where you are My love; …
A stranger’s attic | a poem
There is a room, so dark and lonely, One I've never been or even seen. The way up to it, safely concealed, Guarded by the phantom in my dreams. There in the room, so dark, so lonely, Sit all my dreams, my heart, my family; Gathering dust, feeding the misery. Yet it's no more where …
The Sad Butterflies | poem
What isn't real cannot hurt meBut nothing is less real than RealityYet each day it destroys me,Each day it destroys me... Nothing feels as real as this misery ;I can feel them buzzing inside of meWith wings made of painful memories,Wings pulled by rotten strings. Oh, here they come, the sad butterflies,Waking up the storms …
The Dawn Chorus... 