The last page is turned over, and there is silence,
As you sit still, blinking in a sorrowful confusion.
Dull and senseless; tottering drowsily
Your body functions slowly and mechanically.
You look around the world, the common reality,
Like you would look at a picture book.
It is stark and flat, and the colors are all wrong,
And the words don’t match the pictures.
There is a longing at the bottom of your stomach,
To go back, to that place you spent hours in.
Your mind tells you that that was really the reality,
That this pale world is a dream that will pass.
But you know, with a pang of sadness,
That once the cover’s shut, it is over.
And no matter how you loved that world,
It is evaporated and dissolved into THE END.
wow i used to read reams and reams, it was escapism, but recently ive begun to enjoy my life, so i havent read much in a while. I have to admit, and only true readers can, that secretly i like those worlds better, and to have a few hours with a really good book is brilliant. When reading a really good book, i always try 2 read slowly, to prolong the experience but sometimes i get so absorbed i speed read and then its 'THE END' amazing poem, and an interesting subject! -x-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Happiness for some is in the pursuit. For others it is in the satisfaction of what is done. Some of us, like me, always hurry to get something done and then being happy that it is done and I can go on to something else. Your poem presents a good argument for going slower and enjoying the silence afterwards. I will want to read it again - later and pursue its deeper meanings.