…the other side is dark
As inspiration’s
otherworldly breeze
slow dreams
old myths of partings
and lonesome miles
play upon a sleeping mind
dreams are as they are
dark as smoke
vaguely sensed
all still but indications
of the soul
composing
from the absent shapes of air
over and over
when we sleep
the butterfly is imprisoned
in our dreams
trapped in refraction
flower shadows
restlessly moving
the past is rooted
in darker worlds
ghosts of memories
a jumble of stones
a river of stars
how much of what we really feel
is left unsaid?
submerged
by the things of the day
why do we rake
among the ashes?
year upon year
this bitter fragrance
at our hearts
we cannot evade
our un-lived life
the fate we left unpaid
loose the ties that bind
sleep and wake
in another world
a mirror clear of anything
where one side is illuminated
and the other side is dark
© Ann Bagnall
