Dare to dream the dream's of sleeping demons.
Let their fire and brimstone keep thee warm.
Fly upon their imagination wings.
While away the hour minutes of yester-days.
Be carried far by shade-less souls.
Burnt in the dark of mid-night suns.
Will you be the nova? Super or mundane.
I grasp the galaxy in my fist. Choking.
Loudly your breathless whisper echoes.
Reverberating on the eardrum of my mortal coil.
I cannot help but bleed out.
Too much sound. Not enough meaning.
Mime the stars. Rage. Fire-fatale.
Explode like the dark spaces with melody.
Implode like the light spaces with rhythm.
Dance me a dance of constellations. And improbabilities.
Possibilities. Eternities. Never-ever ending.
I fall as I rise. Rebirth is terrifying.
Mother sing to me.
Let me hear thy voice in purgatory.
Express to me the simple state of being.
Hum a gentle soothing tune.
Let thy lips tremble with its significance.
Never let want become the reason of it all.
Copyright 2004 Brendan Whiting
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/5311/51895 on Friday July 04th, 2008 09:03 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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