The jagged sound dragged

me grittily from sleep;

though the night still clung darkly.

Damp stillness and piercing silence

deafened my ears.

Terror or awakening sense

to touch another soul

searching forlorn,

in the numbness of forever.

The hell of loneliness,

a brief call from the black.

Was it ghost, dream or the echo –

of another eon found in

the dead of space;

floating free, heard then gone

back to nowhere.

The shriek of time‘s cobbles

against the rim of eternity.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, June, 1996