There is nothing but space.

There is nothing but space.

Grass stalks ruffle

In a sighing wind

The trees whisper

Morning prayers,

As silent as the grave.

Ravens gather

On the stones,

Waiting for the end.

She and he walk

In and out of sequence.

Regardless of time,

It is always yesterday

Or the day before.

Sightless are the eyes

Of the dying,

The soiling of memory

And hospital gowns

Never dreamed of.

No mention of jeopardy

Damn bones,

So easily broken.

Strength is ephemeral.

She bounces on her toes

The sound of laughter

Grows as the light fades.

Everything living

Is a lie,

When flowers wilt

In the vase

There is a smell of death

Decay is the only constant.

On a sultry morning

When clouds as busy as a

Swarm of bees

Bustle overhead

The edge of reason is closer

Than you think.

Separation is a dagger

It cleaves the heart in two

No amount of stitching

Will bring it back together.

Nothing is as it was

The mocking choirs

Have sung their song

So many times before.

The tune

A mournful dirge

It burrows like a worm.

Even as the sun shines

The world’s edge

Lies just beyond the clifftop

Is it a shallow incline

A broad church?

Ask the wretched,

Whistling wind

It has passed this way

Many times before.