Somewhere along the arrow of time is a little boy
Not dreaming of me
Nowhere to be found in the lines of his journals
I am not the story he is writing
Somewhere along the arrow of time is an old man
Dreaming of a version of me
Filling journals with blurry portraits of embellished excitement
I am the story he’s desperate to rewrite
Somewhere along the arrow of time I stand
Lost in dreaming
Scribbling lines of ephemeral hopes and indelible mistakes
Writing my story as best I can
About the Creator
Sean A.
A happy guy that tends to write a little cynically. Just my way of dealing with the world outside my joyous little bubble.
Let's Don't Do This
"I just can't do this anymore..." "Do what?" What can't you do? Put gas in your own car? I swear to God you make me take care of everything, don't you? You know I'm on my way to work right now but that never stops you from bothering me, does it?"
By Shirley Belk7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Oh, fantastic. I love how each version of the narrator/you was connected in some by the acts of dreaming and writing! Really stellar poem, Shaun!
I don't think Aristotle's metaphysical metaphor generally gets the respect it deserves, but you have improvised upon it in an intriguing way, especially because you've implied that meaning, and the attempt to capture it, both become more urgently significant as we move from simply being to writing about who we are to writing about who we have been.
I liked this, looking backwards, looking forwards, into what may have been and what may yet be. You decide, Shaun, I think...