Shield your eyes from the dark side
of the moon, an eclipse of the mind
as her heart turns away,
past the concrete and through
the clay, wake up another fine day.
She holds her hands high
to brush the sun, a sweet release
for the bullet in his gun,
flowers float around mercury
as the petals slowly die
and drift off into her glassy eyes.
To live and to laugh, to die
and to weep, dreams fill her sleep
with the confusion of end's light.
1 month ago
3 comments:
Yet another cool poem - I like how you tie it all up at the end.
By the way I will soon have a new house - check my blog for details.
Amber
I don't know why, but this kind of reminds me of the following excerpt from a taoist story that goes:
"Zhuangzi who dreamed he was a butterfly, or was it a butterfly who dreamed he was Zhuangzi!"
Is she dreaming, dying, or dreaming that she is dying.
"To live and to laugh, to die and to weep, dreams fill her sleep with the confusion of end's light." --- strong ending.
Yes - I, too, am wondering 'Is she dreaming, dying, or dreaming that she is dying?'
Interesting poem :)
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