The Silent Passion Of Creation



On the first day of my death
I closed my eyes
and saw time explode in silence.
Shivers of knowledge blew
through my electric storm of thought,
an emotion so strong shook
the foundation of eternity
while passion floated beside me
and weaved its delicate fingers of creation.
I opened my eyes and time had been rewound.
Darkness dominated while whispers
of imagination descended
upon the essence that was me.
The darkness changed subtly
and I found that my dark soul
was creating a new era,
or maybe it was the same one
I'd left behind when my flesh had torn
and the deep red wine of my life
spilled upon the dirty slabs of stone,
I chose to withdraw my highest card.

On the second day of my death
I let forth a sigh filled with passion
and light did dance before my solitary senses.
Fear saturated me; had I been praying
to myself all through my meagre life?
My own personal gateway to dreams had opened
and I could create with the power
I had longed for all through my life.
Dust motes became new worlds;
I watched them cool as the tears
in my mind fell upon a new Eden.
I created a new body for myself
and hovererd over the oceans my tears had formed.
My reflection stared back at me in wonder
and I smiled; the fear is released into the air.
Clouds of thought assembled an army
to rain down my death so final
which formed a new life to crawl
from my sorrow and walk.
My new earth I proudly surveyed,
memory served me right and I frowned,
my highest card was not withdrawn.

On the third day of my death
I watched in patience as the heavens
collided with my ego and caused mutations
to creep into my paranoia.
A red sea brought forth black fish
which swapped fins for legs and gills for lungs
that would inhale my death chant.
Sorry sights did invade my time
which passed me by in jest;
a mock salute hiding a vicious curse.
Figures distorted fought
on my ever growing paradise
which was slowly turning sour
as I realised that playing God
was not an easy task,
my silent passion began to weep.
My body new began to fade
into insignificance as the life
I had created abandoned me
for fresher gods to worship.
I watched them mature
and strangle my world, theirs now,
I had created an Eden, Hell I called it now.
I had wasted my highest card.

On the fourth day of my death
I awoke to find myself alone
in a cold sweat-drenched bed
made up of broken dreams
and half forgotten memories.
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Submitted on August 13, 2010

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:16 min read
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Quick analysis:

Scheme AXXXBXCCDBXXCCXEDXFGH ADXXFXIFXXDXXIXCXXXJXX AKKEXXXXXXBXIXXXJFCXXLLH AGXXX
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,310
Words 452
Stanzas 4
Stanza Lengths 21, 22, 24, 5

Ian Sawicki

Ian Sawicki has been writing poetry for over twenty years. He is a Manchester born poet, who has dedicated his life to exploration and composition of poetry. His work reflects the many great influential experiences of his life, the pain, the pleasure combined to create new exciting poetry. If anyone is interested in my books then please visit my lulu storefront. All artwork on these books is by my own hand. http://stores.lulu.com/chasingtheday more…

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