When I’ll cease to be,
And the worms will throw a feast
On these lips that you loved so,
Know that they will say
Could they say anything at all:
“In his last moment,
He sighed your name.”
Image credit: Feature image generated with DALL·E using a prompt based on this poem and its themes.
If this piece resonates with you and you’re a visual artist, I’d love to feature your own soul-crafted work in place of the AI image.
I keep digging deepIn the graveyardOf old memories.No tombstone, no nameNo dates necessary.Daturas and nightshadesHovering over your remains –Marking where you lay,On your final resting place. My shovel hits the coffin –Wood once varnished with my tears,Now rotting...
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Just riseFrom the abyssOf possibilities infinite;Where countless worldsWere sacrificedIn the Red SeaOf divine hemorrhage:Blood offerings to Selene.And feel… Just feelBygone ashes that makeYour body and mind;Every butterfly wingsOr a simple blade of grassRemnants of...
Thought Emerge! Without fear! Without shame Or care! Just be! Be free! Ascend! From the sea Primordial And free. Rise drenched And wet, With meaning And intent… And rise! And climb! And soar Blindly! Are you mine? No, you’re not! I’m the womb To grow in To be...
Dear Artist Red is the colour of passion, And blue that of sadness – Or so people say. As if colours ever had Inherent meanings other than ones We bestowed upon them… What are these colours even, Without a stream of light? Their waves crashing on pigments Who are...
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