Position vacant.

The space sits, vacant, empty, waiting
For something to fill it.
The space is silent, filled with the
Screams and howls of lost souls.
The space is a cacophony,
Made up of the noiseless grimaces of pain
And loss.
The space is within each one of us.
Some of us are afraid.
Some of us seek the space.
Some of us embrace the space.
Some of us seek to fill the space.
In all of us is the space.
And all of us are within the space.

© 2ndwitch, 17/02/15

Last will and testament

Who I am is not something that you can ever know
For the sky turns pink when the sun is setting
And the journey I travel is a strange one to you
For the sky turns dusk-deep-blue when the sun has set
And the places that I visit and ones that mean something to me
And the sky turns black as night casts its spell on dusk
As I turn and wave goodbye and walk out of the door
The stars are clinging to the velvet curtain before the dawn
And my footsteps tread along the old old road
As the sky wakens the cloud-girt morning at the opening of the day
And the road rolls over hill and dale
Burnt amber-grey in the midday sun
The bracken waves and fades into facsimile flames
And the void is all that is left.

© 2ndwitch © 28/11/14 (and the lack of all punctuation bar the last full stop is quite deliberate.)