Fields of endless dreams,
Where the sun sets in golden beams,
And the flowers sway in the gentle breeze,
A place where the heart is at ease.
The sky above, a canvas of blue,
With clouds that dance and play anew,
And the birds that sing a sweet melody,
This is where I long to be.
In this place, time stands still,
And all my worries seem to spill,
Away into the endless sky,
As I let out a contented sigh.
The colors here are bright and bold,
As if painted by a master’s hand of old,
The blues, greens, and yellows blend,
Creating a scene that never ends.
This is where my soul finds rest,
In this place that feels so blessed,
The fields of endless dreams,
Where my heart forever gleams.
About the Creator
Solomon Walker
Artist, Photographer, Poet, Entrepreneur. Director, Museum of Digital Fine Arts (MoDFA). Solomon is also creator and curator of MoDFA art group on LinkedIn.
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
Comments (1)
Very unique. I loved this poem. Here is my work https://vocal.media/authors/danielle-mosley-rrf0n40ghs