This place is quite dark. There are no voices around. I want to silence the ones that are there. The ones that are not are most needed but even the dying echoes of the same are not to be heard. There’s just a desire to anchor oneself, away, far, far away in land that never was and never will be. This is my alternate plane. I know it won’t exist – it never did. What troubles me is that the world I have built of tender cards of care on this plane will come down any moment now, or may be it had already come down and I have chosen to transcend to another plane, where everything is alright, and there’s a mansion in the far away mountains, where we live.
Do I have to live each day like this, until I perish? Or should I work towards bringing the day closer? Will each day pass in listening to the Banshee singing far away?
2 comments:
the manner in which it's been written ..beautiful
It's pretty deep, we all struggle to find what we think we deserve but the search always ongoing, if i understood the "poet's" thought correctly.
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