What can we learn from the silence,
From the absence of the thunder and roar.
From the separation of the sense from the feeling,
The search for a meaning beyond the blue door.
What is the substance of existence,
The warp and the weft, the disparate threads.
Is the heartbeat just a Morse code call to the dying,
This mortal stardust’s flickering dread.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.