I looked but it wasn’t there, and maybe, it never was
With me, not in my pocket or by my side
But lost, misplaced, mishandled.
It was a story worth telling, a song for the dark possessed soul
And I swear it followed me here. I could hear its cadence in my steps,
“do not forget”, “you must listen and not forget”. “Forget that foul place in that awful time”.
“Now we are here and your worries are mine, so please just forget that melancholy scene”.
This went on for years, compelling me to listen, but now I awake, startled from the dream.
But I would not forget the haunting of that phantom in the dream, stalking me
Bidding me remember, even when I found, that I was here alone, except for my dream.
Here is where I hope to tell the story, one charged with the properties of grace
And maybe it will follow another, now that its through with me and my melancholy dream.
The sense in the song is indeed obscure and listening will not ensure its being heard
But I swear it makes sense when walked with for a while.
No doubt that life seems a bitter road at its end, and its entire course perhaps ruined by its determined finish
No doubt it is not wrong to lay down by the side of it and watch for the traffic that does not stop
So many dark possessed souls aware of the road underfoot, the winding path winding down.
No doubt that anything waiting at its end would understand a lifelong tarry on the shoulder
Of the winding road winding down, all that is and all that’s certain
Except for the pauses it must allow, moments of sleep, solace from the foul place in the awful time
A break from the ache of the ever flowing stream, from which there is no escape.
All that can be, is the melancholy scene and the sanctuary of the melancholy dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is such an amazing poem. I love the style in which you wrote this...it's the perfect mixture of dark, mysterious, and troubled. Most of the repetition is great too...I give it an 8/10 :)