The stillness of the vacuum at the heart of it all.
The silence of the moment that heralded my fall.
The sadness of the climax, the shattering of dreams
When reality is nothing like you hoped it would be.
The absence of essence, of reason to believe.
Of loss and the grave, and the inevitability of grief.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 