Agents Unknown

Window to window, light to light, What memories we create here that dance in the spaces so far from fear? There’s something I can’t see; is it you? is it me? There’s something just out there, beyond my reach in the dark spaces of soundless infinity. The city sleeps quiet: I do not, I know that sometimes, you must reach down if you are to grow. And sometimes, that Voice Inside You, that something-so-deep-down, it gnaws at personal acclivities. Memories, warm spots, soft and bright white lights: a leech, a vine, a climber climbing out of sight. In the seconds before the Fall, we go under, but catching one last breath we know we’ve tasted fear because it has the stench of death.