THE INVISIBLE KEY
Behind a locked door, was the heart; protected by panes of invisible glass; reflections of experience evident, with just a glance. A heart, once unblemished and new; now hides each day, hidden away from use. But, what’s sadder all the more; is that the key to the invisible door; was seen by all, but the heart; for in its’ hand, unseen; held the invisible key! -DDSonnenburg(7-10-2000)
A PASSING MOON!
The night is dark, as morning moves in for its daily eventful promise of ascending light. The moon quickens its pace around the globe, offering spotlight to dancing stars, along the way. Billions of twinkling stars, in unison peek; through a wispy and clouded sky; for the beckoning sun and moon, dance at twilight.. always, right on time. There is warmth in the room, and a humid taste of filtered smells from the days cooking place, and a savoured moment, blesses my face; as an anticipating pang of hunger, finds its place. Blankets strewn upon the bed, showing that I tossed, any deep slumbering, was lost. As twilight exposes its first hint, of a dark, indigo blue; the birds sleep silent under another, passing moon. -DDSonnenburg(6-5-2005)
Poverty’s Jagged Edge(also, Titled: The Beguiled)
- D.D.Sonnenburg, 2008
I am not here,
said the shadowy smile;
The Dead End Lane: The Last, Long Road - BY: @dds/north(6-2012)
Where tears evaporate, before they touch your cheek.
Where dreams you had lay dormant, upon sacred ground in memory; oblivious to the parting of time, as inconvenient abandonment?
Where love is never found, and perhaps then; can never be given?
Where echoes of laughter, sound hollow; across empty rooms of imaginary happiness.
Where strength breaks, and courage surrenders.
Where dreams, the last perpetual hope; evaporates over, and over again.. right in front of your heart.
Where carpets of layered hurts, rest abandoned, and adorned with healing scars; weighing heavily.. where new hurts, call for attentive minds to tend them.
Where a red, glass heart, once hidden; is now, put in a jar on a shelf, with cheap-coloured clear, blue and green oval stones of glass; to make color, for the imminent din of loneliness.
Where faded dreams, in sacred memory chambers; live.. ceiling to floor, caressing the walls; like woven, silky cloths dearly floating, with each breeze from a balcony window.. in my heart; where the view is inspired by romantic, imaginary happiness.
Am I alive, or am I dead, and the doubts, which gorge upon my soul, are actually maggots; worms of fear, found on low ground, in a clutch of darkness towards the “unknown abyss”..
on the last, long road.
When you look at me; look past, the cover of my soul, and see me; because, when I look at you.. I see you, only as that way.
I am the quiet one, the observer, the obscured beauty of nature; the life-source of my existence is love; thus, i feel the worlds pain - D.D. Sonnenburg 10 15-2009.