Missing you...

Missing you…


I feel a certain emptiness enveloping me, a creepy crawly from childhood days. A void left open like some gaping wound so blackened that maggots have already left. I feel an emptiness overwhelming me.

The breeze outside beckons to lovers from all around, welcoming a warm embrace, it touches my hair, lifting its swirls, reminding me of how it may feel and then drops the limp strands of hair to other limbs of green.

I look out into the twilight as things become clearer, tiredness takes its toll on me and from afar I hear the voice of lateness call upon me murmuring into my ears the drumming of time.

It is a demise that I have come to miss my vortex, m black hole of emotions, I miss it, for at the end it is still an emotion. I want to feel, perhaps I have forgotten how? How do I feel?

There is no coldness even, for even that is a feeling. How shall I cry for help? To whom?


"No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee."

(MEDITATION XVII., Devotions upon Emergent Occasions by John Donne)