so senseless –

breathlessness and pain

mistaken

for those glimpses of light striking ground

and perfect teardrops

streaming down the icy cover of your thoughts,

imbued with wine and silence liquefied to dripping greyness

of senseless waiting

for time to end in a blank page and closing cover,

since death is not the end you’re after,

nor, in truth, is ending death your choice,

for moments pass 

and so everything you ever felt as real does too

just like the step-like motion of your heartbeats 

and clocks ticking too loud to hear the skips

of waiting

for certainty to beat out time

in a deafening lack of meaning 

which you never sought nor fought 

and of a silenced call to endure

a finitude

that played through the mourning calls to fight

one moment more 

for a beginning neither sought nor lost in hope,

too real to beat the truths resurfacing 

in mirrored light-spots,

of beams offered another chance to gleam back

again in nowness, to embrace the moving dawn

for those who walk the distance bravely

at the pace of setting suns and rising stars.

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Late and Soon’, by Max Richter)