A dream is a fragile living thing
It cannot survive the burning heat
Of the sun’s radiant light
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
When you try and drag it
Into the full bright of day
It sizzles and shrinks back
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
Constructed of dust bunnies
Spider webs and heartstrings
They're flammable beyond compare
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
If just one beam grazes
The springy cloud of hope
Before being fully realized
It could be dispersed
Searing off
Evaporating into the atmosphere
To rain back down to earth
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
I watch others follow directions
Shading and tending
Taking better care of their aspirations
While I ramble fitfully, never fully falling
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
To let go and meet the black
Would mean to consecrate
A new life plan
Begin again from the beginning
Rebuilding, the act of creation
Is a heavenly calling
One I am finally accepting
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 7 days ago
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