Unveiling Shadows: The Haunting Secret Within Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne’s Poem “The Wake”
Ever wonder what happens when machinery takes the wheel and you’re left to wander amidst clouds brimming with strange, undying truths? This poem invites us to step beyond the ordinary—into those elusive spaces where dreams dissolve and reform, where lightning turns to stone and erosion shapes the contours of our very hopes. It’s not just about watching the sky but feeling it, sensing that delicate boundary between reality and the unseen, pressing your fingertips against it until it feels cool and unmistakably real. The imagery shifts and shakes, provoking the mind to ponder: Can we ever fully grasp the textures of our own restless breaths? Dive in—and maybe you’ll find yourself standing side by side with others who roam such lyrical terrains, staring beyond what’s comfortable into the vivid unknown. LEARN MORE
I Leave The Wheels To Machinery,
There Are Strange Things In The Clouds,
Honest And UnDieing They Could Live In The Wake,
Of New Days From The Next Deaths Of The Old,
Turning Lightning InTo Blackness And Stone,
The Wearing AWay At The Grip Of Dreams,
Erosion Of Forms And Patterns,
Blinking The Light From Entrance InTo Havens UnSeen,
Tenacity To Cling From The Swaying Lines,
To Burn And Incinerate The Dream,
To The Fragments For Spaceious Skys,
UnDoing Like ButterFlys,
Ripping Through The Membranes BeTwixt Glass And Grain,
Shadeing Lapses As I Step Forward…
…
Never A Division For A Partial Chance,
Empty As All Paces Can At Once Be,
Each To Lift Not To Settle,
And As I Have Stood…
…
Those From Such Walks Meet,
Side By Side,
To Stare Beyond The Shoulder’s Length,
Filling With Texture And Sleepless Breath,
Fingers Pressed Against The Surface,
Cool To The Touch…And Smoother Than Lies.
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