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Elysian Valley Awaits

While walking along in a bleak December day,
A reflection of failures was thrust upon me.
The wind chilled my bones in an unnatural way,
I let it consume my inner soul.

With my spirit downtrodden, overburdened by woe,
My eyes fell upon an old willow tree.
Its scars of pains past festered with renewed sorrow,
At its centre, the blackest hole.

As I approached, my steps full of shame,
I pondered on what was the source of our agony.
For the tree and I, we were one in the same,
As we stood on that terrible knoll.

Suddenly, a beam of light broke forth from the heavens on high,
Illuminating the words, “Elysian Valley Awaits thee”.
And from this sign I believed the Valley was nigh,
As I basked in this light, my heart became overjoyed.

The light traveled on in translucent wonder,
Drifting all the more further away from me.
To the Valley that Awaited in splendor,
With it, darkness and woe were destroyed.

I followed the light, how gloriously bright!
I followed it blindly in faith to the Valley.
The bliss that shone through had no end in sight,
so too the enigma employed.

There must be more in that Valley that awaits,
though every moment away from it feels like eternity.
More—I need more in that Elysian Valley that Awaits,
The one I love but have never known.

But where are you, Valley, that which waits so patiently?
How long must I wait to be united with thee?
Do you even exist? Or is my mind altering reality?
With love in your midst, my heart may atone.

The birds chirping ahead, welcoming me to my Valley,
“Elysian Valley Awaits thee”, Elysian Valley Awaits me.
I pray thanks for my haven on bended knee,
For I believe and have faith in my new home.

How much further, must I run now? Let’s go!
I’ll surely get there faster if I double my speed.
So I ran for that Valley that I cherished so.
The one that Awaits for me, to set my soul free.

The birds had deceived me, my faith was no more,
No Valley Awaits for me, Elysian Valley doesn’t exist you see?
For all that Awaited were the cliffs of Falsamour,
Filled with mourning, defeat and self-pity.

I’ve lost so much happiness on those cliffs of old,
That mountain so familiar so cragged and steep.
So as I lay dying in deprivation and cold,
I write to warn those in need.

“Elysian Valley Awaits thee”, what a fool am I!
No Valley Awaits me, I’m living a lie
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Poetry.com 3.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 0 reviews.
Dumka Vincent 12 months ago
Good poem
oluwaseun agbaje More than 1 year ago
I find this twisting between past and present times; seeing the future in colors less than grey.
Danish Sheikh More than 1 year ago
Nice work
drkgbalakrishna More than 1 year ago
ok
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