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For Silence:
Be But Still My Dreams, A Wish
PaulaARG Kernachan
Click to hear this poem read
A wish for naught art the heart that does not seek
love. Nor seeks thee the face of a future love…. One longing for
companionship for the seeker… For naught is the chance that again
ever as once was… will be no longer forever.
The force of the memory I hide but to sleep. If living is living
with no love so near. For in dreams I see thee as we once were
and was to have been when we were free to be as we were always to be.
No one, no other exists to me be true there are always rivers that flow
offering quench for the thirst of the plenty…. That need be filled with
the splashes of refresh-ness…. But how does one refresh the dead?
Is flow that which passes each day? Taking me farther away from
the place I was to dwell? The place found by midnight where
darkness
alone knows, my not so secret, longing that roars like a boulder
found
in the rushes of spring thaw…. Mist the swelling fullness that fights
its
way inside me….. crushing my passage for any movement that takes me not
to the Midnight.
I sing still the song in my heart that wishes for the dreams that mock
me by light shown to fear the wistful lies the night speaks to my
heart. For who would not yet now believe that the structure was
at fault…. Unforgiving to the young with dreams of a fine architecture
to yet dwell. Can that be flawed…. To one so deserving?
When truth is such that the building is worn?
For youth know yet not the usefulness of familiarity and
the warmth of experience as to them yet the world is new. But for
this is the end so few.
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