This is where dreams come to die
In pale sunlight of mourning
Where thought concedes all
A surrender of the night begins
The body limp draws out a breath
Bones ache, the soul weeps out a cry
The peace of the night is dead
The new day an executioner, butcher
Reality must now be faced
The routines of work and conversation
Meals and more empty talk
Gossip and ideas some rather good
Otherwise its going through motions
Only love breaks the monotony
That kind of special companionship
That binds you to dreams
Makes you remember them
Otherwise their lost, gone, forgotten
Slaughtered in the mourning's light
Great opening line poet and also your tittle is so catchy
Thank you this poem just came to me and flowed right onto the page
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
While sleep affords us the peace and hope we all seek, our wakeful hours often become the slaughterhouse of our dreams and plans. Only love can deliver us safely through this realm of reality. You offer very effective analogies in this poem. It was a pleasure to read.
Thank you I enjoyed writing this the ideas around dreams and the hard reality of waking is something that interests me