Nothing

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