Disappearing dreams on the edges
of fluttering rotting pages under nimbus clouds
Nostradamus rains all his telic prophecies
of lost potential when the mind is ill
Can you try understanding simplicity
in all its puzzling complexity or
does the mind need a substance
for it cannot articulate its own disease
Meditative care or empathy
and the presence of mind
I am present here and now
Finding freedom in the found
Brittle bones and muzzled love
for those who wear their
heart on the sleeve
They will find their dreams again
once they let the edge go
for a leap of faith
for faith in love
They will find their feet again
once they feel renewed
from starting from scratch again
and letting go of the
reconstruction of past memory
Painting by Simon Quaglio
Smoke words every day. 
13 responses to “[451] The Nostalgic Illness”
absolutely beautiful!!
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Thank you!
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❤❤❤
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Thanks!
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I like the comment about the mind not being able to articulate its own disease—so often true in my experience.
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Sad to hear that but we’ll get through it!
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They will find their dreams again
once they let the edge go
for a leap of faith❤️❤️
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Yep!
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Awesome.Loved it💕
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Glad you liked it 🙂
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Wonderful poetry. Also love that image.
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Glad you liked it 🙂
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