Dance of the Dead

Semi-Stream of consciousness poem.

By Paul StewartPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read

dead are conscious of nothing

yet, their dance

raves noisily in my head

lingering, clinging

their broken mortality

remains, transcends

imagined, yet beautiful

conjured, yet organic

haunted, yet comforting

lest we forget

and our minds become

free but empty

quiet, but lonely

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Quite a sombre one...but meant to be positive, even in grief.

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