Even the Sweetest Ones
It all flattens to simplicity,
stretching to infinity, as in
its edges transcend my perception;
dimming, fading, not like sad, last embers;
not joyously, as sunset aftermath;
but impassively, as the stage scene ends
in that space of quiet contemplation
where audience breathes uneasily
before giving way to rapturous applause.
That is the way all my dreams end, only
the applause never comes through the dark
and I’m left to ponder in this stillness
that maybe this is what awaits us all
when we settle into our final sleep,
converting even my sweetest dreams
into voiceless, realm-voided nightmares.
Sometimes, a ghost’s hollowed whisper is sought
over muted emptiness of end-scenes.
NaPoWriMo Day 4: “…write a poem based on an image from a dream.”