In the end when the words wash over us
and the golden light wasn't enough to keep
on dreaming, being afraid to fall asleep
for fear of waking up. All doubts
would seem to not matter, except
the regrets which refuse to allow such
memories to decay. The tortuous havens
of silence which by choice or necessity,
were the only way to continue. Beauty
and inspiration seeming unreachable once
again. But all of it not mattering.
For then we come to wonder if the
inherent irreplaceableness of those souls
that bring color to the world is simply inside
our own minds.
Until we find once again, that it's lovely to
be wrong.
Dear P.S.
ReplyDeleteI love Rachel. What... I forgot the "this". But it's ok because I love Rachel tambien.I love the part "All doubts
would seem to not matter, except
the regrets which refuse to allow such
memories to decay" And I love how you say that the golden light was not enough for the dreams. Because they weren't. ALSO!!! The way you set up all the lines in the way that you did is really interesting the way it makes it read
I wish I had come up with the ideas of memories decaying on my own, but I did not... I just applied it..
ReplyDeleteBut thank you, I am glad you love it. The way it's written... you still read to each period without stopping, in my mind. But it does make it a bit different this way.