The day I learned to dream
- Reads 60
- Votes 7
- Parts 5
Ongoing5m
Last published Sun, Sep 12, 2021
The creation string connecting me to my dreams is so thin I could see trough it better than through a window. But windows show the world outside unlike the unexpected material connecting you...to you.
I may not know how it comes to creation nor what meaning has what it shows. But thanks to its existence I know the feeling of flying through emptily full world. I have seen purple trees and felt like it belongs. Because it does. It all belongs to the world where there's just me, myself and I.
My attempt on poetry that takes creation in my dreams, every day life or comes out of nowhere.
Probably won't make sense but does it really have to? (nope it does not)
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They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.
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