The Slim Space

Where the shallow souls dream

A thousand faces
A thousand steps

The thinning threads of reality
the unravelling tapestry
a last waltz swirling like fallen leaves
around empty trees
to the slow beat of distant drums
and the never-ending tick tock tick tock
of the ever-present clock

A touch of ice
A web of sorrow

A veil falls between the lines of darkness and light
obscuring from sight both day and night
and I am drifting weightless
in the slim space where the shallow souls
dream of the hush of blooming
in a place hidden from all
where the silence is a raging storm

A reflection unexplored
A road that never ends

Under a fading moon
a silhouette melting into the darkness
a slender shaft of light
all my longings the shadows of my past
gathering like storm clouds

A naked need
A tolling bell

The wind plays the night like an orchestra of pain
and the ghosts in the trees call to me
in voices that sift through my veins
like sands through the hourglass
impervious to urgency
grain after grain after grain

© Ann Bagnall

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