A collaborative poem with Brett Little of Individual Expression of a Naive Mind.
As my heaven burns in a motionless chaos,
Beaten by air and corroded by water,
Beyond sour blood, beneath the depths of agony,
Come and taste the dark,
the infinity within me.
Even though the time fades away,
Come and taste the mist,
The infinity within me.
A solitude that ascended to struggles of white days,
There is nothing but a trail of fleeting emptiness,
A rain of thoughts that rejected me with madness.
And with every subtle mouthful
I savour the flavour of our memories,
Their knowledge is the truth of our existence.
Through silence of scarce reasons,
Through a moment as black and
Withered as old iron,
I wander into a shadow,
Drowning in an abyss as your thoughts travel on.
Soft words full of reality,
The stale withered memories,
Beaten by air and corroded by water
drowned in tears alone.
Beyond sour blood, beneath the agony,
the facade of tattered ambiance,
Shall I weep?
Shall I fill rivers with tears?
Tell me, O lady of infinite roots,
Aren’t memories nothing but mist,
A mist misplaced?
Yet these clouds bring with them a sense of clarity,
A foreboding of the onset of a
Singular lonely snowfall that is paramount
To hiding the tracks of these empty roads.
Without light to navigate my intentions
I pray for nothing more then storms to surface,
For as sure as the lightning strikes
These moments it will guide me to the coastlines
That represent the memories
You once use to possess
I fear I’ve been abandoned,
Cast aside in your garden as
My words become nothing more
Then seedlings to conversation that may as well never existed,
Am I nothing more then the sustenance?
The Sustenance that is integral to your creation?
As the first of my tears drop
Your words warm the air around me,
My tears turn to mist,
As you call out to me,
“you are nothing more then the memories,
You seek in this cycle that binds us as one.”
This particular poem is a little bit special, my dear readers. A poem that started as a simple comment on a post of one of the fellow blogger who is unbelievably talented. Brett Little. Or as he likes to call him, “Emo Who Loves Poetry.” And that he does, it’s almost unbelievable how he writes poem based on daily prompts. I’m almost envious. Ten minutes into the daily prompt and you’ll find a post of quality writing. I guess, inspiration has a soft soft for Brett.
I humbly request you that you check out his blog and if you like what you read, do show your support.
Now as a final note, check out the comments on this particular post (Hindsight is the mistress I want foresight to be) to see the thought process behind this particular poem.
Few posts worth revisiting