The sounds that come from silence fill the void
between the stars. Shut down your mind, be still
and let them in. The song of nightingales,
Death’s tuneful whip-poor-will… may both be heard,
for notes ascend in grief as well as joy.
A pause in life will cheat the clock of time;
expand this fragment of eternity
to play your tune, and make its vibrance felt.
Alone, the wain will wend a rutted path,
its destination known, by nightmares drawn.
Unharness them from your accreted load
and let them go. Embrace each moment now.
The past is but a slideshow of the mind;
and future gains? …may not be yours to own