the edge of a sea of sober pensiveness —
I stood, silenced.
caressingly strangled at the hands of restriction,
I fell into dormancy.
the oasis that is out of my reach:
watch as they bask in the warmth of sunlight and
ignorantly laugh at unimportance and
preoccupy themselves with meaningless small-talk that
defines their very existence to
justify the mockery they make of us for
what we are.
no sunlight came to our side but
bitter chill —
and northern lights become mere myths.
the world of greying navy skies and white ice
in which we condition ourselves to survive —
turns the fire in our hearts
Darkness holds your hand
like a mother would her child.
“Shut out love, my dear”;
“is there goodness here?”
then, to your ear, she’d whisper,
“when you cross the invisible line that
the end is marked near.”
Originally Published: 26 Jul 2015