Gentle Reminders

Reality always finds a way to topple
The castles we build from broken dreams.
It strip mines our minutiae and pollinates
The sky until the acid rain of regret
Explodes from the swollen and bruised clouds
Of illusion and self-delusion surrounding us.
The falling drops pierce and prick us.
Tireless. Ceaseless. Unwillingly reminding each
That burdens are born and re-gifted daily.

18 comments

  1. “It strip mines our minutiae and pollinates
    The sky until the acid rain of regret
    Explodes from the swollen and bruised clouds
    Of illusion and self-delusion surrounding us.”
    In the process of trying to pin down my words, I was recounting a dream I had two nights ago. You just unknowingly, and very accurately, described it with emotional grit and visual intensity that I couldn’t have come close to, exposing insights I would have never thought of…beyond surreal.
    Your words are intoxicating, as always.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Brooke. You are the second person today that had that experience. Gwen had it with an early morning poem called Funnel Clouds. Now you with this one. That IS surreal. I would love to hear that dream, sometime, and see how it is shared. You can always hit by “contact” if you ever wish to.

      Intoxicating…I like that and needed that. Thank you.

      Liked by 2 people

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