Open Poetry #27 |
Somnambulism |
davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
This is a rare poem for me, because it has no rhyme. I think it's powerful nonetheless. --- Perhaps everything is an illusion. Perhaps when we die, our heart stops beating And the ones whom we loved will remain gone Forever; seeping into nothingness, All of our progress and future destroyed. And the last things we see are loved ones’ tears. Perhaps everything is an illusion, And if we dared leap off a mountain high, Our souls would drift away and not shatter Like a glass thrown, broken to painful shards. We would taste the sky and come down to Earth, Ever-watching our seeds blossom to life. Perhaps everything is an illusion, And all our worst nightmares of Hell lie true. Fully tricked, our unfaithful souls are plunged Down and away, forever hence in pain. We suffer for our fated insolence By eternal, unforgiving torment. Perhaps everything is an illusion. Perhaps all of our knowledge is static Buzzing across our accidental lives. We sleep and dream chemical reactions And nothing can be proved, but everything Is plotted in great detail, like a map. Perhaps everything is an illusion, And after we die, we know no better. We walk around blindly in our own dreams, Cradling our brains, thirsty for knowledge. We could cut off our dreams like cords of life And stop the tears from falling when we die. Perhaps everything is an illusion. Perhaps even clarity is a cloud And when we let go of everything dear We simply exchange it for an ideal. So, let us life our lives in illusion, For whichever one we choose is worthy. |
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© Copyright 2003 David Merriman - All Rights Reserved | |||
Tim Senior Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 1794 |
A fine effort, enjoyed the read and the ponder. |
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