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Fata Morgana and His Fantastic Legions
I can begin to see stars above the shore tonight.
Lights in the distance and the preservation of memory.
And even in our own lives memories change and go the way of the wind.
Some say that just before night when the tide is right, you can walk through the fog and inside of memories.
By night with torch and spear I walked into the wind of waned shore.
Holding the collective past.
And there in the sky just above the sealine all I once knew reflected moving to stretch.
An illusion of atmosphere.
An altogether ache of the heart and the realisation there is not another start.
Sometimes we don't realize when the dream comes true.
You can keep an avalanche within you only to be reborn in the blue.
The Way of Things
I really enjoyed this poem. The line, "Sometimes we don't realize when the dream comes true" struck a chord within me. Thanks for posting this.