Long ago, there were castles
carved of ice in the frozen South.
Auroral fireworks flowered
from their ramparts,
and rained liquid silverlight
into shadows to equalise
But our shining dreams have
half-lives, and year by year,
their luminance decays until
every spark is extinguished.
Your cynicism diminished you,
so you hid in the memories
of long-gone silver days
that vanished in pale inevitability,
in a mist of undefined empathy,
At sunfall, snowflakes and feathers
blow in from the west, and your sorrows
are all unwrapped, lined up before you.
You wander through the night
to the foregone conclusion,
to the terminus, and it’s time
to pick up a pen and write.
The Purpose of Reality illustrated short story and poetry collections from Meerkat Press, with pretty fair reviews from Publishers Weekly, Goodreads, Aurealis, and the like, now available on Amazon and at other outlets, click for details including reviews.
Silver Days, click image for larger version. Evolved by the Visual Evolution Engine, my software that seeks unimagined realms, with CYNDE, Cyclic Nonlinear Desaturation. Art and poetry also on Instagram.