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.

END

“Random Intangibles”