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Back to
Poetry
THE ABYSS
by Brant
W. Fowler
Surrounded by an emptiness in a place full
of dreams.
A void beckons me, but neither thoughts nor
action comes.
Encompassed by a multitude of possibilities,
yet none are mine to have.
Lost in a sea; an abyss; a nothingness,
where hope is not seen or heard.
Ships sail continually through the expanse,
but none hail me.
None can see my plight, or they simply
ignore it.
Vague images of peace and happiness from a
time past perhaps invade my pondering.
They soon fade away.
The bleakness of the present overshadows the
past.
The images continue to invade, but the
emptiness eats at them.
They push through the current and come to
the surface.
I am made aware that they are not of past,
but of future.
A ship sails by and eases into the dock
where I sit.
The delivery is for me.
Emptiness begins to fade.
Void begins to be filled.
The abyss, the sea, is a place of solitude.
The air is crisp and the breeze is cool.
I have caught up with time, and my ship has
finally come in.
Time stands still.
I once again ponder my circumstance,
ignoring the ship that hails me.
All is lost.
The sea is dark and the ship sails away.
I am faced with the overwhelming abyss.
My ship has come.
I have not seen or heard.
I am overtaken by the silence of the abyss.
It has become me. . .
I have become it.
©1999
Brant Fowler |
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