Enveloped, and cresting the dusk of dawn
the palace is ancient
there are only shadows of ghosts in residence
clinging to the false sun above my bed
they sometimes whisper nonsense to hear
only our answers’ pentameter
The thieves mock us in their debutante
finery
I cannot find the tears for you
forever is but a sliver of an instant in the eyes
of a god
the truth is a fraction of an epic on the tongue
of a devil
I often wonder what he sees, lost count of
the times I have heard others tell his tale
our lives are dreaming bleak
pale, like the moon
in winter over a tundra barren, unmolested
never knowing the touch of man
lucidity in confusion of where I am
pellucidity blurred in waking
finishing where we began
unquiet this subconscious bedlam
Thanks Nicole!
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I love your wordsmithing! And I love the tag, “nothing” 🙂
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Thanks!🙏
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As usual brilliance that is humbling. I absolutely loved
“like the moon
in winter over a tundra barren”
Fantastic.
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Thank you my friend 🙏
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So very very good.
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Thank you!
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❤
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🙏❤
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