miscarried dreams are not dead, but delayed and still breathing.
Amada Paul Israel@israelamadapaul172464
5 days ago
MISCARRIAGE DREAMS
When visions bright are born, yet fail to grow,
And cautious hands climb ladders none can see,
Though stars retreat and silent tempests blow,
The heart still beats for what was meant to be.
Some dreams are born soft,
wrapped in wonder,
but never find their feet.
The dreamer dares, though trapped in veiled delay,
In shadowed paths where many hopes collapse,
Yet in defeat, they find another way
A strength that time nor fate can not entrap.
They lie beneath timelines,
not wasted, just waiting
like unplayed chords
on a broken piano.
Though some ambitions falter, still they burn,
Not wasted seeds, but roots beneath the ground.
The womb of thought awaits its full return,
Where lost ideals may yet again be found.
Visions fade too soon,
but still they whisper through night
not lost, only paused.
You sailed with maps inked in fire,
climbed a ladder
made of questions
and small courage.
Beneath broken stars,
a silent womb holds the fire
of things yet to bloom.
Some fell.
You fell too
but not to disappear.
So let no dream, though stillborn, bring you shame
Its breath remains, unquenched, a vital flame.
Each breath is a step
though dreams fall like wilted leaves,
roots grow in silence.
@nirclepoetry
1 day ago
