Across the expanse of this boundless canvas, shadows form
Flitting silhouettes cast by an invisible brush.
Beneath the silent hush, a gentle luminescence—
An echo of something more, less material, yet more vivid.
Whispered wishes forge passageways,
through the tunneling void where once
light convulsed, illuminating secrets.
They dance on the fringes, undulating, breathing,
yet the breath is but silence, a chiaroscuro of
existence fading in and out like supplicant stars.
Only in dreams does absence have a
destination, an abode for those who seek
the tapestry of emptiness, where echoes
construct a mansion without walls.
Further still, the whispered lands await,
their promised horizons taut with expectation.
John, who wanders, sees the absences
that have become lost realms,
the oracle reading paths inscribed
in nowhere and everywhere.
One must ask: Is the void truly a land,
or merely the shadow of light's escape?
And as the whispers envelop once more,
seeking haven in the ripe void between
touch and untouch, the silence sings
a soliloquy to the ephemeral and resplendent.
Press on towards what seems to be, Glow of Ultraviolet, below
the sentinel sky, where unseen desires twine into the essence of
all that is, and is not.