Stumble upon our works
And you shall see
How fragments of our lives
From joys to calamities
Though insignificant otherwise
Prove that not all things
Of sizes small or great
(Assigned by choice, or fate?)
Are worth their weight in gold.
I'll stay here
In my gilded cage
Fading away from your hawk-like eyes
Because when negative light is blended in
Suddenly
I'm not the same shade
of juxtaposed relations.
maybe, what I thought was impossible
would fold me into its midst.
maybe, dreams can visit the real world
without deception nor disguise.
maybe, the songs I've listened to
are all but expired echoes.
maybe my nightmares know
I haven't learned after all.
One finds the catacombs when running away from the heavens. 'How quaint' remarks some. But when trapped beneath the trenches for so long, light does not illuminate the endless nights. And leaving the past is easier said than done.