Has been unusually still with the ruins
At the bottom;
The bubbles of your dreams cling to the rocks,
I haven't caught a murmur in days.
Maybe this is the stillness before the wake
And you plan to wake up soon,
One hand reaching for mine, the aged fisherman,
Blushing at your nudity and reborn innocence.
Then you'll tell me all the stories I die to hear,
All the sensations I've missed I'll drink in like water,
All the preserved memories and feelings
Also describing everything in song of the sea below
(And how the lack of current roused you like
A baby in the cradle).
But I do not know you anymore,
I don't know you like the time of day anymore,
Or the forests that border your subconcious;
All I really hear from you are the
Thoughts of Neptune far away.
Maybe you do plan on waking soon,
In revenge and anger and shame,
To drown the world in fire instead of
Engulfing it in sea;
Maybe you'll start chasing dreams on land,
With only the flame of past ruin
To guide you.
But none of that worries me,
I wonder of something else
That plagues even the deepest oceans...
Something that cannot be escaped
No matter how hard one sleeps away.
Remember the days, I know you do:
What happened to the castles
That were in the sky?
They are now the gravel at your very feet,
A grim decoration and
The anchor for your bubble-contained dreams
On the ocean floor where you decided to hide.
I wonder of the time, for I wonder if
You would be able to tell me or the world
The past, along with your fantasies
In the alotted time you have-
Hours, or even minutes
The greedy galaxies only allow us.
Dreams die accidently in my too-eager hands
When I grip too tight,
But I know everything fades
Into nothing but the haze of dream,
Including the stars in my eyes,
And the castles that used to thrive
In the sky.