Late this morning, I saw a world;
a world of the dream. Hazy-eyed,
a view eerie, yet terribly surreal.
I saw you there, close by me.
You held me, fingers clasped.
Gripping everlasting love.
Abrupt flood. Asphyxiated.
Falling away from what once was.
Sudden revival. I’m back…
Memories – blotched.
Feelings – sustained.
Truth – extracted.
I sweep myself across a barren, vast ocean floor.
I sweep myself above cold, watery grass.
I sweep myself through charred, scorched fields.
Waiting without end.
Truth is – regeneration never comes.
I must sweep on
until Death itself awaits me –
moaning at my doorstep.
Time will come to pass
and Legend will forever remember
one who swept –
while he silently wept.
The soft leather chairs,
they depress – under
the fortified weight of humanity.
The darkest cyclones,
they churn me – away into
the surreal lounge
of truth.
peon poetry 