…like a cloak

My destruction has begun
the pages
of the book of endings
relentlessly turned
by an unseen hand
there is a deep, dark beauty
unravelling
under the watchful eyes
of the distant stars

though light years away
the brushstrokes of their art
sing like a lullaby
to faraway broken hearts
even the birds
are unseen and silent
in the presence
of this ethereal symphony

although the clock is ticking
time no longer has meaning
I am suspended
in the moment
my body frozen
in sleep paralysis
invisible and voiceless
I am an anonymous participant
in my own downfall
already a ghost
haunting my own past

searching for redemption
trying to understand
how devastation
can be so gentle
almost soothing
unable to comprehend
my own racing thoughts
incongruous
with the calm in my heart
and the blood still flowing
like lazy rivers through my veins

memories
are now flooding in
the soft touch
of translucent shadows
the pale echoes of the past
that unexpectedly persevere
like blossoms that linger
long after their colours
have faded

promises made
promises broken
illusions
versus delusions
the brittle threads of hope
finally turning away
I wear the darkness like a cloak
© Ann Bagnall