A proper introduction

If you lit this dark room and set aside all that was, every sound stilled in silence that holds you to your eyes, If you take apart the curtains laced in tear and place them again on a melting star-bit night, warm showers untouched, your presence, your past, the hunger to be the thought original, the heart that plummets, summits you to the quiet depths and whispers where all that's written by the shadow of Plato, if you find your end come sundown miles from the cold morning where remnants of light might still mind you in dream, surviving only the cotton web of a billion quilted lullabies, waiting for the teeth of me to come and hold you by graves into the wild cold conscience, to render our coming weight, our thunderous storm of summer,  I will return as wild as twice broken, and across the desert lips by wing or gallop I will still be come winter a darkened room set aside for all that was written.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Curly Grace]

There’s a wild, dream-deep pull in this one. The way you braid darkness, distance, and return feels almost ceremonial. The poem reads like a dark room remembering its own pulse.

[Perdition]

I remember thinking "how would I introduce my self, my life, my house and all the things of living that turned me poet", from there some angel came to this keyboard and just started taping. I don't know if it conveys but at the end we all are left with that feeling essentially, probably not you, I imagine but the travels are roads that hold us to minds and wings and leaves us always closer to that nearby distance so, so far away, or thus I feel~

[Curly Grace]

I hear that, truly. Sometimes the words arrive on their own, and we follow where they lead. Your reflection makes sense to me, and I’m glad the poem found its way through you.