Some dreams are really nightmares.
Piercing bamboos that grow
from the night's black soil.
A gleaming medieval sword
escapes the glass case of a museum
and beheads the defenses I erect.
Worst happens wrongly here.
Nothing that I have prepared for.
The days are brightest but
the memories of a dreary evening
are up everywhere.
Tonight is its domain.
The battle is tilted
towards the other.
I have to only comeback
with a sharper scythe.
Piercing bamboos that grow
from the night's black soil.
A gleaming medieval sword
escapes the glass case of a museum
and beheads the defenses I erect.
Worst happens wrongly here.
Nothing that I have prepared for.
The days are brightest but
the memories of a dreary evening
are up everywhere.
Tonight is its domain.
The battle is tilted
towards the other.
I have to only comeback
with a sharper scythe.
2 comments:
Dark yet shining with fine imagery. I can' resist the temptation of quoting Orhan Pamuk here
"A man's nightmares are never so real as when he's starved of sleep!".
Perhaps, the days aren't as bright as you might think.
@Biswa
Thank you. Definitely agree with Pamuk. Days are so bright that we are blinded. There is never an optimal amount of light. Every light burns!
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