What can I do to contain the presence that isn’t here? Take my fear, tie it into knots around his neck, raise the window, and let out the dark as his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream?
The door opens and absence returns. I wash everything again, dripping silence onto the bare floor where I stand unsupported. The stains won’t come out of the air. They remain, unmoving, like the clock whose numbers have blurred into thick ghostlights. Unclean, these words piled up like dirty dishes, this blackness that sucks all reflections into the other side of the mirror.
Is dead ever really dead? Is dead ever the ending of anything until all beginnings cease? Can the universe uncreate being, collapse time beyond infinity, disintegrate energy into its opposite? Become a vortex spinning itself into a before that never
existed,
unmattering–
gone, gone, gone?
For dVerse prosery, where Bjorn has given us a phrase from Maya Angelou: “his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream”.
K. 
From the scruffy reality to cosmic consciousness; nice ride. I love those metaphysical questions that can’t be answered.
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Thanks Glenn. I overflow with those questions.
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Luv the way you painted the dirty air wit your skilful imaging
Thanks for dropping by to read mine
Be safe
Much💟love
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Thanks Gillena.
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“Is dead ever really dead? Is dead ever the ending of anything until all beginnings cease? Can the universe uncreate being, collapse time beyond infinity, disintegrate energy into its opposite?” Yes. It can and does. Without sounding too woowoo, let’s say my experience assures me that this is so. Your post hit a personal nerve, but I am beyond that now, gratefully.
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That must have been quite an experience–I’m glad you’ve left it behind.
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Fact is, I haven’t. But it’s not constant. I just deal with what is given and am good with that.
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Interesting metaphysical musings. The “punches” leaving absences stand out. George knew those places were better stayed away from, whatever form they exist/don’t exist in.
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Thanks Jade. George had a lot of wisdom and shared it freely. But he didn’t shout about it.
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I love those words “piled up like dirty dishes”. This seemed to move from the banal reality of loss to an existential enquiry. I’m left moved and thoughtful. A different pace to most of what I’ve read today.
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Thanks Sarah. This came from a free write I did a few days ago that seemed to fit seamlessly with the provided words. The questions I have these days are also piled high.
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I like the artwork you used to illustrate your prose, Kerfe. Both capture the feeling of a ‘presence that isn’t here’. I like the Lady Macbeth scenario of washing everything again and the stains that won’t come out of the air. Good question: Is dead ever really dead? Like Sarah, I also love ‘piled up like dirty dishes’ and agree about the different pace.
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Thanks Kim. I was looking for art to use and ended up layering two different paintings. It captured the feeling I wanted.
Lady Macbeth is often on my mind these days.
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Deep questions K
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They seem to be all around us.
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I like where you took this. Nightmare isn’t frightening unless it’s real, and what is in our heads is often more terrifying than any chainsaw.
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Thanks Jane. I think it’s the most frightening because there’s no where to run.
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That’s what it’s going to be like soon. The waking nightmare.
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So many questions, so few answers. You used the phrase well.
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That’s true Beverly. Sometimes questions are a way of sorting things out.
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I would find it infinitely sad if questions like that could be answered.
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I think many questions are posed without expectation of a reply.
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I love the questions and the layering–the washing, the silence that drips, the stains that don’t come out. . .is dead ever really dead? Something I think about–it goes with my time obsession. I enjoyed this.
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Thanks Merril. I have been thinking a lot about that too. Circles, time, shadows, reflections…more questions than answers.
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Never really gone.
As often happens, you have me thinking.
And the song’s title and words are just right for this.
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Thanks Ken. I’m still thinking about this one myself.
George left us a lot of good words and music.
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Just…wow.
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Thanks Victoria.
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“The stains won’t come out of air.” Great line. Hard to wash away the invisible. As an aside, thanks for the music of Leon Russell, who I have not heard in a long time.
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Thanks. It is, although we keep trying.
He’s one of the greats.
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