Out from a reverie

From all the baggage we carried from our yesterday
to all the transient dreams we placed ourselves in,
We came making up the stories, we wished to hear
to let them conceal the rumblings of our kins. 
We hurled questions, objections, ideas of fear and rejections at each other's face
probably everything our faces could bear. 
We defied the questions and ideas of sins, 
within the subworld we built from our souls, bones and skin. 
Yet, when I traded my own,
for this subworld, no sooner did I realise
that it's too rich,too warm
 too fine to acquaint my restlessness with a home. 
But my disquiet needs a shelter. 
Soon. 
Very soon. 
Tell me, 
Would you mind
if I burn the baggage and ditch the dreams? 
Would you care if I take back my investment of words from the stories
Would it be hard for you too, if I expose myself to those discontentments again? 
Would you remember if I back out
and forget your name? 

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