NOTHING
Dry spells
In a windy month
The carcass of long forgotten sunlight
Streams through carrying dust particles of memory
I can neither catch them
Nor feel them
I sit and observe
This hollow spirit has the capacity to absorb
Memories that fly
Like moths on curtains
Draped and closed
From life itself
Spirits speak to me in hoarse voices
Less human less divine
Overall less
More like sand in deserts
Roaring silently
Or emitting heat coldly
Enough to dry up tears
Or evaporate feelings
Blowing across arctic snows
A breeze of death clenches my shoulder
A white Raven with claws registering time
Ripping years and decades off my flesh
Neither is there a future or a present
And the past is dried up
When memory stands at the gates
Desperate to enter and to remember
The Raven rips through them
And the sunlight burns the future off my irises
Left blind in a still present
This pond stagnates
There is not even life for stagnant feelings
Or a malarial swamp of hatching reverie
Lying still
There is only hope
In the silent seas there are only sighs of wind
Blowing hope across the sails
Of a ship that goes nowhere
Another carcass
That knows not journey, direction
But billows blindly waiting for a sign
Signs have altogether gone
Gone with God and his prophets
Signs are advertising
Commercials without a compass
Signs are everywhere and nowhere
They lead to clearance sales
And assembly line restaurants
A voice hoarse
A tear quiet
A helplessness, living by itself
Neither is there death nor life
No creator, preserver or destroyer
In this life of lies
There isn't a strand of truth
Or a rock of meaning
There is only emptiness to feast on
And silent seas to drink
Needles are now melting on the wall clock
Dali-esque they torture time
While the Raven keeps picking at my flesh
Age has caught up with me
And it is now overtaken by sadness
It waits for me to receive my hell
The final judgement
The laughing crows
Point to my port of call
There sits the Judge on his seat
Enveloped with the vegetation of his creation
Bullied by a universe He created
He lies passive
Reading the text of judgement
His believers and non believers stare blindly
At this strange God
A divine secretary
Black holes and supernova
Tell him where to go and what to know
The Raven smiles at His confusion
Blinded by knowledge this Blind God
Meets his blind believers
And in this communion of impotence
I am not invited
I stand an outcast
Peering into the abyss of my death
It is a well in which I send a bucket hurtling
It lands with a crash
Echoing horribly
So there was nothing to draw on for me
A parched throat, a still desert, a silent sea
A Raven peeling years
A clock melting time
A ship sailing nowhere
And a compass
Paralysed by doubt
Pointing fingers
At nothing
