United States


April 14, 2019

I read a book
that flowed like river,
words that poured like rain,
ink that flooded
these two-dimensional pages.

I read and read until
I fell into its ocean,
splashed, surrounded,
swallowed, sunken.

And there
I stayed floating
in this story, watch the sky dance,
the stars make their rounds
all around and there I was.
Slowly, softly, smoothly,
waves that lull the soul
into slumber.

In my dream,
I saw birds flying,
soaring away,
and there was land.
On that land was beauty
in the pools,
the shadows of color,
the spaces between
everywhere and everything
was gloriously beautiful.

And I was there, a ghost,
watching, peering, staring
at this world that was not mine
looking for something
I had lost, I never had, I wanted,
I believed that I need.
I saw a flower bloom and wither,
the flourish of color,
the drain of time.
This was the land of momentary beauty.

But here I was god,
I could just stop turning the pages,
linger between the lines,
pause on the words
and here, I could stay
in the sweetness,
in the good.
I lived again
and again that same
wondrous memory, never
having to face the end, the death,
the black and white and gray,
to leave the safety and comfort of
what was good.

Tears were shed,
blue ones bruising
indigo and violet
as they trailed downward
I went to the land of bitterness,
sweat, tears and blood,
where grit is necessary
and survival a daily task
and there, I cried
with all the others
in the tragedy that was time.
But this was no surprise
yet always a shock
painful, tearing,
soul-wrenching, heart-twisting
because it was the truth that
behind every cloud is
a rainbow and
behind every rainbow is
a cloud and
like the fallen and
the risen dynasty must continue
in this cycle where no gods reign
here and only us
churning, swimming, navigating
through it all but
it’s okay.

Okay, because
we always knew.
I knew.
And I found,
what I needed,
some life, some color,
some tears, some pain,
just a reminder
enough for me
to buoyant upward
the surface, gasp,
for the air swirling
in me.

I was out of pages.
There were no more flowing rivers,
the rain had ceased,
the ink dried.
I read a book


See History
  • April 14, 2019 - 7:47pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment
  • Juliana

    This is beautiful! Your words flow really well. Good luck in the contest!

    almost 2 years ago