…of absolution

In the prelude to my lonely nights, when the world finally stands still
long shadows are stretching, elegantly leaning into the quiet
whispers flow through trembling trees
where unseen hands trace the blooming arc of darkness
a presence, soft as the velvet dusk
is silently shifting between thoughts
a mere flicker in the half-light, prowling with feline prowess
through the dark halls of memory curled and waiting in the hush
eyes glinting and watchful
lingering by the thin walls of sleep
where dreams spill over into morning
the air is heavy, sweet and slow
a strange warmth creeps down my spine
my breath becomes shallow and carries the scent of patchouli
with heavy hints of rose and sandalwood
this unseen presence knows the hidden pathways through my veins
the roads that my heart keeps locked away in time
it brushes past the barriers, slips between the hours, like silk
its song heavily laced with ashes
like distant ocean waves, murmurs rise and fall in the dark
in the hushed tones of the past and the echoes of all that is lost
in this dark place of absolution where words have no currency
patiently, it is waiting, coiled in the darkness like longing
lingering at the threshold of hope
the guardian of my sanity, the keeper of my desires
and of the unseen and almost real
steadfast it stands in place
until the dawn comes calling
when as always, it slips silently away
my shadow soul, running from the light
in the aching depths of my dreams
© Ann Bagnall