...standing on some foreign threshold
the fear, a fur on my back
where is that gold-paved road
the stone lions, the iron door
who has the formula?
where the dwarf to lead me
through this wind-torn landscape
shreds still flapping from the bones of trees...
I watch myself
trying to flee a terrible dream...
*
from the door
the view is wide, wide!
it seems that this is where fulfillment lies
and greatness
and slipping of the yoke
one step...
so why is my heart racing?
it is grey, and cold
I am alone
it seems a violent wind has blown
the air away
this freedom feels too much like dying
the door has gotten very small
but I know I must get in
3 comments:
Wow! This one gave me goosebumps and a sense of knowing what you mean.
I love the "..bones of trees."(Beautiful vision) and "...this freedom felt too much like dying." You have the most remarkable way of expressing a feeling.
Is this one of your dreams?
The "..door has gotten very small" for all of us.
no dream
Thanks for your comments!
Your welcome. Still Amazing.
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