…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, pulsing in constant repetition
melting 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 and 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