Eyes

Cold deepens

inside my being

like ink,

spreading on a sheet.

—

Air —

an invisible kingdom.

See through.

—

There is life

that slowly moves —

no direction,

no form.

A blob of nothing.

A search

without trace,

no start or finish.

—

—

A call,

a shout?

What is

the difference?

—

My eyes

or

yours…

© Quiet Reminders