A dream is a fragile living thing
It cannot survive the burning heat
Of the sun’s radiant light
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
When you try and drag it
Into the full bright of day
It sizzles and shrinks back
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
Constructed of dust bunnies
Spider webs and heartstrings
They're flammable beyond compare
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
If just one beam grazes
The springy cloud of hope
Before being fully realized
It could be dispersed
Searing off
Evaporating into the atmosphere
To rain back down to earth
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
I watch others follow directions
Shading and tending
Taking better care of their aspirations
While I ramble fitfully, never fully falling
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🕸️.
To let go and meet the black
Would mean to consecrate
A new life plan
Begin again from the beginning
Rebuilding, the act of creation
Is a heavenly calling
One I am finally accepting
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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