…into emptiness

The brush of a cool wind
upon your face
for a moment
all is empty and silent
a pebble thrown in a lake
falling deeply into emptiness
concentric circles arise
pulse in constant repetition
melt into one another
followed by silence

gone is the mirror
its passing perfection
will never be the same again
for a moment
there is not a trace of warmth
a gentle hushing rain falls
the wind knows your secrets
wherever you are walking

you are
and yet you are not
a great silence descends on you
moment by moment
reality flows
everything is clear
these longings
are nothing
but the coming and going
of ancient, restless ghosts
© Ann Bagnall