Missing


The word that failed to imagine itself,
the bleak dimness, the absence of thought, of expression
that prevailed in the decaying cavity that plagues a doubtless mind.
A seed growing from the darkness and the earthly silence
that from it rose, its petals frail and filled with the blinding
bleakness that occupied oblivion.

That sudden doubt that plagues and festers unceasingly, the steep shrill
of a sparrow, now dead, echoing only in the memory
of itself. The vibrations, undulations
in tone and harmony, unfinished, a chord made discordant by
absence. A sound silenced.

Incomplete, narrative without conclusion, life without
end, a certainty of demise, of rise, resurgence, a wave
unbroken by pebbles of shore, surety of the
wind on soft clover covered fields, a feeling, a sensation
unclothed, senses searching, violated by depravity.

Without end, there can be no
beginning. Taste without texture, colour without contrast. We cease, you cease
in mid stride assured of connection with the
inevitable. Paradise, reality lost within the confines
of dictionaries and dictatorial declarations. Endless
descriptions and definitions fighting for meaning perceived
and persecuted by rules. The path is lost, then found and leads…. nowhere.

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