Some memories are fossils–
fixed in the quiet earth,
written in amber and stone.
The sun’s breath caught in resin,
truth set deep in unmoving grain.
The Stone Labyrinth endures.
Walls remember centuries,
their patience pressed into silence.
Light slips through high corridors–
a thin, molten thread of gold
unraveling across the floor.
A glint of amber
between walls of waiting.
Hands cradle porcelain warmth,
tea steeped in a forgotten yesterday.
Steam rises–a tender ghost of the sun.
Stone keeps its counsel.
Corners soften
only by the wear of time.
Patience settles, weighted like dust
in the quiet air of the inner house.
On a grey-slate table,
a journal waits–its pages faintly breathing.
Some words glow–bright amber beads of fire;
others etched bold as conviction,
their meaning unweathered by time.
Deeper still, two pools rest.
One shimmers gold on gold–
tenderness adrift,
memory floating unbroken.
The other lies in shadow,
a hollow carved from raw stone,
its depth weighted with old pain.
Once, a blade slept there–
grief honed on silence.
Now, only a pencil drifts,
its point worn smooth,
its truth surrendered to silt.
The Labyrinth exhales.
Amber cools. Stone settles.
Silence opens, wide and vast,
into the indifferent light
of the world beyond.
Exceptional.
You make it look so easy to write so well. Professional grade material.
That’s incredibly kind of you, Styxian. Thank you. This poem was inspired by a fragmented dream. I’m happy the themes of memory and permanence came through clearly. Your positive feedback is excellent motivation.
This whole piece feels like warm amber.
Like it’s literally melting onto the page.
Something about it also reminds me of honey. How it lasts indefinitely when crystallized.
Wonderful write:)
Thank you, Adelphina! I love the honey image–amber, memory, and honey all blending together, adding a lingering warmth to the poem. I really appreciate you sharing such thoughtful and sweet reflections.
I love how you turn dreams into a waterfall wordscape. Those that linger long after sleep has turned into the humdrum of everyday living.
Thank you, Ghosteen. I love that image of a ‘waterfall wordscape.’ That’s exactly the feeling I was reaching for–the kind of lingering dream that stays with you even after the ordinary day returns
Brilliantly penned, Roma. Excellent write my friend with stunning imagery. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you so much, Damian! I really appreciate your kind words. I’m glad the imagery resonated with you–it means a lot coming from you.
RomaJ, I am continually amazed by the poetry you write. I can feel the tension between the whispy dream and the memory(s) it held connected by Amber and Stone. Your poem reminded me of my real love and first wife, Amber (a name she was given because of the color of her hair). In many ways, she is the memory, the fossilized Amber memory that haunts me still. Isn’t it strange how you can become a more conscious human being because of such fragmented dreams?
-Curt
RomaJ,
This flowed like amber reminding me of insects preserved in amber from millions of years ago. The DNA of memories suspended in timelessness and your imagery is mesmerizing. A journey into the heart of poetry on things remembered. Fascinating poetic journey here. I could feel it in my heart and mind as well. Profoundly beautiful.
John