literature

Suspended Quietus

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chromeantennae

Published: Jun 11, 2013

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Literature Text

Suspended Quietus

I lay to rest, cold soul and deep beneath your ground

no longer attached to the world by physical thread

am I alive at all, I often wonder aloud

or does this hollow hole imply that I am dead?

Do you miss me now that I've gone?

Or were you waiting for this moment all along?

I faintly recall your voice's waning sound

as into the depths by a dark angel I was lead.

Suspended consciousness walks hand-in-hand,
With this mysterious being that wishes to lock me away,
In this alternate universe known as dreamland,
So as I rest in my sturdy base,
I close my eyes and fall into a peaceful trance,
I envisage myself at the doorway of this place,
This place of purity, upon these clouds I stand,

Pressed against the box that was once my refuge

It has become the prison I abhor

From spirit my bones seem to protrude

I’m not whole anymore

Severed from the world and plane that I once knew

Distant and detached as this land I wander through

I wonder if these steps I take are truth

Or illusions meant to confuse me more.

Waiting eternally at the gates of Elysium,
Wondering when I’ll truly wake from my rest,
And enter through this celestial doorway of radiance;
Perhaps this never-ending trance is simply a test,
Of my endurance of faith and patience,
As I prepare myself for the inevitable separation,
From the mortal coil that burden my physical embodiment

Eternally at the passage of night

Into a new day, I make my long wait

With meditation on the possibility of light

To questions of beyond, I careful concentrate

From the first and precious breath

To the inevitable death

Every daily journey-flight

I am compelled to contemplate.

This is a collaboration between myself and the ever-so talented and wonderful, ~hypermagical. We discussed a collaboration a little bit before this, but I think once I posted my quatrain "Phantom," we really found that this was something we could write about, so here it is.

This was pretty darn fun to write about 'cause it's always nice to write spiritual things such as the afterlife. (For me, at least.) Munira as always impressed me with her frickin' genius and I really hope we work on another poem or two, together.