Welcome, again, for the 29th post on His Empty Space.
I’m here because I have yet another piece of writing or rambling experiment for you to take a quick look at. This one stems from a more poetic styling and is less about random details as it is about a sort of narrative, I guess, where every line follows a question for you, the reader. It’s an imaginary base to play with.
And what is a dream?
And where were you?
Far, or away?
Did you run through the streets, looking for day?
When the wind lifted you eyes as the rain paved your way?
Were the shores gently graced by your feet as the tumbled rhythm played?
Where the earth was collapsed by soft shadows arrayed?
Could the star have shone like you as you crossed night and day?
Can you really be sure that this won’t die away?
Because your hand is in mine in those pillars we made.
Would the world end if it wasn’t this way?
And was it but a dream?
It is not mine to say.
Enjoy! And, as always and forever, leave a comment or a thought if you’re super keen 😉
Peace,
Tom.
His Empty Space 