The wind came and spoke to me last night.
In haunted whispers my thoughts rose to
Meet it as I lay drifting in that nowhere
Place between what is real and what is
Not, the swirling vacuum that exists
When neither asleep or awake, but
Lost in a sort of semiconscious ebb
And flow of random intangibles.
It called out to me, that howling emptiness
Laid bare for my inspection, its voice a
Cry of lost possibilities, moaning subzero
Nightmares carried through the eaves as it sought
Me out, lent credence to the art of solitude, but
Gave no quarter in its desire, that wind, to
Join me there in silent reflection until I lost
My way into a dreamless oblivion.