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After; our visions — Pale; Black.

Holes erupt,
Stardust is plucked,
From a diamond’s
Optic centre.

Orbed, old doors shut,
New ones open up,
Through silent pressures
Come an entrance.

After; affliction’s, Laid; Relaxed.

We worrywarts,
Ought to worry not,
For at the end of dreams,
Eyed slipstreams
Are recurring.

After; our teardrops, Stale; Damp.

Like; Yuletide frost,
In spring’s sight,
Thaws across,
Run river’s tides a-turning.

The weight you carry,
& the wait unhappy,
Stack empty heft,
Through insight’s back.

But, confronted fear,
& brunted fates you bear,
Fill gazely geysers fresh
With what you lack.

After; our spirits, Remain; Intact.

Great divides ahead,
& faced ego’s lament,
Traverse, course, travel, career & tear on;
To, ultimately, convey our pax.

After; our visions — Pale; Black.

© poormansdreams

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