Today I present a poetic piece of writing I created a few years ago. The idea behind this piece was inspired by an extremely vivid nightmare. After waking from the nightmare, I immediately began writing this dark poem. This is the only time this has ever happened.
Intimations on Spirituality
Somewhere on the rainy roads of our lost time.
Somewhere turned into violet streaming eyes.
The moor, and the willow, met this apparition.
In the wake of a split loam the root began.
The stone and marrow sank for my whisper,
and in my stare the dimensions cracked
to a tome spread open on the pass of May.
Quarter-turned to a leaflet scribed on watery corners;
a fermented cry to the moonlight arch
closed the eyelids again until mourning.
Far behind the stone a horizon melted away.
Vines choked the willow where rain did not touch.
A songbird melody faded to the groan
as the taint of a scream silenced time.
Shadows rose to greet me.
A jackal wept to the mask perched on my shroud
and howled on in fatal keys that locked the gates to reverie.
The shadows drew near and the hourglass cracked.
Sand poured, but not for my hour, and so unto earth I fell.
They stretched for nothing more than my fingertips,
and on the rays of a gleaming dawn, a new satire arose.
The willow transformed, and in its dry patches
a burrowed coffin lit the skies with archaic fires.
My neck stretched forth to see within the confines,
but dragged was my curiosity when They pulled.
Vices gripped to my face as darkness tore at my dawn.
The vines had found their alternate and kept me still.
Shadows drew nearer as the willow wisped away.
The terror wrought through imaginary veins
and at last these shadows had found me.
The morning star began to fade and ghosts sang to me.
Their drapes fell away and revealed my eyes,
a dreamy gaze, I felt content with never looking away.
The solar flare at last withdrew the cold,
and my picture perfect dream was over.