Treasure Island

Tristan Niggemann

The beauty of life trough the eyes of a desperate fool

The stillness of a vivid beating,
Vilified itself repeating,
Like the rhythm of a clock,
Dysfunctioning in awe and shock.

The beauty of a moment's splitter,
At first so sweet, then tasting bitter,
Like a comet falling deeper,
Climbing steep and falling steeper.

The crimson of a fiery dusk,
In the air a sacred musk,
Like the drawings of a dreamer,
Clarity where no one sees her.

The nostalgia of a rustling curtain,
Filling you with sad uncertain,
Like the shining of the night,
Stars and planets shining bright.

The gleaming of a distant sky,
With clouds of dreamers passing by,
Like the rattling of a train,
In freedom moving on unchained.

The heroism of a martyr dying,
Thousand of his people crying,
Like a sea of love and pain,
Nonetheless his deeds are vain.

The power of a blind man's will,
Moving mountains, just with skill,
Like the conquest of a king,
Fanfares on his towers sing.

Submitted: Friday, January 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 11, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Written in agony, because the girl of my dreams is unreachable. Lived in happiness, because no matter how high she may be, there is always going to be a ladder high enough to reach her.

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