TabithaCat

There is a Void

of sight, sound,

mind.

A Void that presses

angrily

on the heart

like Atlas’s burden.

Day after day

searing shoulders,

shortening breaths,

spiraling theories.

The Styx fills

with droplets of mourning.

The hour of Eros draws near.

Aurora Borealis shimmers in the distance.

But beyond,

looms the Void.

A land of shadows,

of substance,

of things and ideas.

It creeps

like the twin of Thanatos,

then crushes its victim

with the force of Sisyphus’s burden.

A Void—

A dagger

that pierces

the heart

of a mother.

A haunting

A loss

A dream

A Void.