…to all who can hear

I am but a silhouette, a shifting shadow of emptiness
dark lines traced against the light, undefined and distant
I was once more than this, my flames quenched so long ago
abandoning me to the night
unwillingly mute, yet still I speak, not in words, but motion
my tendrils write in inked calligraphy
my silence sings to all who can hear
the trembling words that I set free, etch me into your memories
I become the ache you cannot name
the unreachable warmth that lingers, long after the dream
I am the sweet hush between moments
that carries more meaning than any sound could ever convey
let time and space misplace me
let them write me out of their pages
for I am no less real, for lacking flesh
see me dance in the music of the sky
and swim in the mirrors of the sea
watch me fly far from my obscurity
my ethereal form may be my destiny
but my soul, even in silhouette, controls my artistry
© Ann Bagnall