Step 14 (74.)

I’ve thrown away so many colors,
varied shades and hues that defy description,
as well as myriad beautiful greens, whites, and blues.
A dash of red and yellow too,
for who can forget the sight of blood on sand,
or a sun waving goodbye before bed?
This place gathers the things we’ve let go
and stacks them high in a haphazard way
as if to say
“Look and see what you could have wrought.”
Those who never fought
to hold onto dreams
are most likely plopped in this one
for what feels like eternity,
to contemplate the threads of fates
they set aside to fray.
It is a comfort and a curse,
walking through this tulgey wood
and listening to the burbling of dying hopes.
Visions grow dim, in oxymoronic description,
maybe it’s more apt to say the dimness grows
and overtakes many daydreams,
to choke them off before they are made manifest
in flesh and material.
Immaterial, these fancies and fears,
yet they weighed down so many living dead
as an anchor thrown in the sea.


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