Darkness
The wind blows softly through the trees,
The birds sing farewell to the departing sun.
In this quiet there is only me(but I know the secret)
I am alone in the ever incressing darkness, we all are.
In the dark there is a magic
Not seen by our eyes
Subtle, elusive creatures
That hide from the light.
These eternal creatures
Shrouded in mystery
are dreams of the innocent
And visions of the deranged.
Without sleep
One ceases to be
And merely exists
longing for release.
At night we lose ourselves
To the inner being that is hidden,
Unconsciously our fantasies are fufilled
With no remorse.
In the darkness of the mind's playground
Anything can happen,
Nothing is immpossible
All is real
The landscape is different
Things are not as they should be.
Or maybe they are
And what seems false is true reality.
-srw
-srw
poetry angst
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