From nowhere,
That place from which we see our being,
A wave of sadness flooded over me.
A peaceful, kindly, loving sadness,
A fluttering of spots of time,
A quivering flurry of simplicity.
I read the messages, as if written on scraps of paper:
No more blossom,
No more spring,
No more planting,
No more industry,
No more notes,
No more smiles,
No more waves,
No more loving.
And, as quickly as they came, and like the aviary of birds I see in my childhood mind, they flit away,
Gone,
No more,
Blown back into nowhere,
Their messages wiped away from possibility,
And I am left again, alone, loved and with only the past images of those delectable spots of time.
