People die and with them they leave behind an
abyss.
In one room, amongst sob and shock,
And a sinking feeling looming large.
Your world would have fallen apart.
And nobody knows...
Nobody ever can.
The cynic smirks when they offer you words.
Death, the darkness brought by the overflow of
light.
The abyss, the hollow
The silence and the plight…
What were they thinking?
Don’t they know that moment words are just
sounds,
Echoes of a redundant now,
Which simply glide above and around you,
And never through you?
That moment all you have passing through you
Is just a colossal barrenness…
Engulfing your blood pumping machine
Which resonates with the raucous white noise
of a simple truth.
People die.
Words never seem shallower.
More scarlet.
I don't know what helps.
On such occasions words cease to matter,
Yet it is the inescapable reality we all have
to face.
I merely silently stand.
Alongside…
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