PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's quiet here in the afterglow. In the
silent corner of the heart where the memories

have been planted waiting to grow. They are
all there, every design that has been mingled

with the tangy taste of failed experiences.
Adventures dreamed of, not begun. Dreams of

adventure imaged, not lived. Seeking answers
for questions not asked. Wondering why the

symbols on the map do not match the reality
of the landscape. The lingering doubts, they

form like amber glass which has been tossed
casually upon the carpet of hope. It's empty

here in the keyhole of the door. Thinking the
deepening shadows are just metaphors for a watch

which has stopped living. There is no tomorrow
and there is no today, just flipping channels of

differing opinions crossed by the underside of
fortune. Are there not any more balloons left

to release into the sky? Are there no more
flags to wave in the attic of broken suitcases?

There are not any issues which cannot be
resolved by the sinking of the ship. Forever

and forever the deleted files of the chain are
linked eternally into the dungeon of the soul.

It's quiet here in the afterglow. It's not living
that is important. It's not the dying that will
matter. It is the dreams of dreams dreaming

that ultimately influence the collection of
the passage of time. It's empty here in the

meaningless jungle of desire. Opening the window
is useless, for there are no images to let out.

One respects the silence. Letting the clashing of
the bells stop their ringing. Just surviving.

It's quiet here in the afterglow. In the
beginning of the end where I have been reborn.