Elegy For a Dream

I had a tiny hope once, and it grew as big as the moon's twin.  I let it move my blood like the tide and cast shadows in the night.  I called those shadows to me and I fell in love with half-light, telling myself it was enough to replace the sun.  
And the flowers of my joy withered and the rose of my heart lost its petals.  And I told myself this was my new life, as a creature of the dark, doomed to roam the earth forever with a hunger so old I forgot what it was.  I gave it a new name: scars, and buried it in the graveyard of my hope.
Buried feelings never die, and neither do certain dreams.  Leagues under the earth where there is no light, they find a sleep to pass the time.  
But even the earth has a heart who's fire lends a spark that we might remember the day and all her colors.  
"Remember," she says.  
The day seems like a dream I once had, elusive, just beyond the veil of twilight.  I cannot reach it from here.  I don't know if I will ever live in the sun again.  Too many mutations and my thin skin is adapted to the moon and darker things.
Soon I will long for the deep; the dark, wet soil of the earth where beings go to die, that they may be born again as a tree, a rose, a bird, a creature more suited for their temperament.

Copyright © 2021, Sheyorah Naify
Image from pixabay. Artist unknown.

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