"Different Dark (poem)" by Tansy A. H. Pye

DIFFERENT DARK.

I see things in a different dark,
All things that nothing can explain.
I wear clothes of a different design,
Things no loom would weave.
I weave webs of fantasy
To ensnare any
Unwary enough to read,
To view
The art,
I produce.

Out there, inside you
I see a kindred flame,
A dark dream so bright it will
Allow you to see
Through the lies that normality,
Reality weaves.

Do not explain the visions you hear.
Keep from them the sounds you see.
Tell them not the texture of pain,
The colour of pleasure.
They have no light,
They dwell in a different darkness.

To them we are
That which nothing can explain.
To us they are as an open dream,
An empty heart.
A broken scream.

But you must be kind to them.
Those poor blind souls
Stumbling in their
Different dark.

They sleep to dream.
They dream a small death
They call a paradise.
We, who live in paradise,
They fear.
Call us mad.
Anything but what they truly
Think we are.
The Un-dead, Walking dreamers,
Angels or demons.
Spirits too free
for their small caged world,
a different dark.

By
Tansy Pye.