In dreams we break, and are torn asunder,
shunned while velvet nights shudder and rage,
so we wake to escape, our spirits bolder.
Cahiers, written by a nameless author,
though modest, defile with each stained page,
in dreams we break, and are torn asunder.
Exuent a fear impossible to master,
a dark light prances and torments the stage,
while we wake to escape, our spirits older.
Cursed is this contract, to place an actor
confessing her lines, even moved to persuade
as we dream and break, and are torn asunder.
A minstrel sings of Tristan and Isolde,
lovers crossed and doomed by curious fate,
unlike them we wake and escape, our spirits lighter.
Jostled 'tween two worlds, yet courage is steered
by checks and balances, a bittersweet adage:
although in dreams we break, and are torn asunder,
we shall wake to escape, our spirits bolder.
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Something I wrote to explain my affection for traditional forms, and the basic writing process over at another thread,
Poetry - Proper writing styles and formats....
Comments are welcomed.