ArticlesNewsOthersShort Stories




Did you ever stare at a face carved in stone

and within a split second of magical awe,

realize that this man made soul

is a correct depiction of the statical form

of a man, stuck in a dream?


Reliving a life planted in his mind by a time when

influenced by pride in a worthy home,

his maker gave essence to void.

A void which once was him.


Clinging now to the euphoria and wealth

in his creator’s smile,

as he knelt before an oversized pebble, on that day,

beside a glory filled hut.

Surrounded by gorse and rich trees, dancing

to the story filled songs,

on lips shaped like the half-moon’s smile.


Do you ever stare at this face,

and wish to be stuck in his dream?

Or ask, “at what point did growth go wrong?”


Have we cast back into the night,

Those shadows that gave depth to our plain, garish selves?

Have we drowned in foreign light,

the gentle, feeble glow, that was the muse in the darkest times


Wishing now to be sucked into our stone friend’s sleep,

Are we, ourselves, stuck in a dream?

A tap on the shoulder, or a loud call away,

A gathering in songs and memories or a purge away,

from the reality in his head.

About Author

Comment here