cold december, dark hours

she glows in the darkness

silvers glimmer in the shadow

lambent as moon's light

refracted through thin clouds.

winters cold night.

december -

december.

when dark the hours stretch,

stretch out countless,

countless endless infinite,

infinite waiting.

he is there, spark leads him,

bright, she, catlike waited.

for his eyes will see now,

now, see through

shadows wall.

awakened, footfalls

footfalls echo

echo quiet

back and forth

red bricks vertical,

here in the place

where horses slept waited,

waited till she should return

return home in the night

what mother would

wish this for a daughter.

time and love

gone beyond

lost, forsaken.

she stood, stands there.

stands, where they left her

then safe, no risk

to make her own way

to the place where she,

was.

He -

It -

came to that place

by as chance,

as she.

friends and the night

in the place of music

they had gathered,

together there.

walking then to where

the minstrels sang

dancing, in celebration.

she was warm,

then,

she is not,

now.

she, still as stone.

hands raised,

supplication -

supplication -

prayers, hands,

on assyrian walls,

in the gesture of the fallen,

the captured,

the lost.

wrists bound together -

I kneel before the One

who holds my life,

in his hands.

Or to ward off the blow

as it falls.

it is the gesture -

Please do not demand of me

what is in your power,

to deliver.

bright, the spark waits, silent,

waiting.

who has led him here.

who thought it was but a dream,

from which he will awake

to find sun, light, day,

life -

waiting.

not nightmare

He is confusion,

now uncertain,

who sees upon her face,

so still,

so cold,

traces where

mascara has run

with her tears

(ran with her tears)

oh sweet child, how came you here?

eyes now closed,

now closed,

and still.

What dream is this?

he thought, thinks?

I thought,

I was dreaming.

I think I,

am dreaming,

dream.

bright, the spark waits, silent,

waiting.

he must touch her face

touch her face

touch

where her salt tears,

ran, slow drops falling.

such fear he has never seen

writ so, upon something

so beautiful.

she had been beautiful.

was beautiful, still.

silver she glimmering

in the dark before him.

shadows wall rise,

black bricked vertical.

there was hunger

in this place.

now reaches out
one finger

to brush

- touch

back

a hair

- touch

one hair

- touch

from her face
- touch

reaches out,

slowly

It is hunger

It is hunger

empty

void

it waited chained to the center

where time stood - still.

can there be waiting

in the place where is no time?

There was once such a place,

in the dark between the stars.

where the carbon wind slowed,

stopped.

a balance point.

a zero sum.

There was it imprisoned.

to fade slowly,

slowly.

so there forgotten,

unremembered,

untolled.

till the scribed tales decayed,

forgotten.

the guards asleep,

and still as death.

pendulum, slow swing,

measures time in the curve

of a perfect arc, subdivided.

an escapement ticking.

a beating atomic heart.

light being ageless

exists only while in motion

departs now

arrives now

traverses 0 distance

therefore completes no journey

it is here, now.

it is there, now.

neither departing nor arriving

existing only while in motion

in stillness light finds death.

yet all that is, ages.

ages and forgets,

a slow effacement.

for memories are,

until they are not.

And so a mind asks,

why am I - here?

and not - there.

not a wave.

waves traverse

yet do not change,

that which bears them.

so that through which one passes,

always returns to the place,

where it began.

in some other place,

at some other time,

a wind began to blow.

first furious,

tearing apart even the stars

in its path.

till spreading outward

through the darkness,

time passing gentles.

until, where hunger waiting,

came from one side,

pressure.

slowly

slowly.

so it begins to move,

to drift.

No longer zero sum.

direction enters.

time begins again.

with drifting,

dead newton speaks in motion.

the watchers,

silent,

still,

move also.

blown before the wind,

this way and that,

drifting.

hunger moves,

past the balance point.

finds again,

-gradients

-potentials

-winds

-currents

-turbulence

it is not,

yet it is,

between.

time passing again, there is no thought.

only hunger,

emptiness,

void.

thought will come later.

after feeding.