Bare incandescent light flares out in brief.
It shows a silhouette, unremembered in its brevity.
the air is silent, it leaches the sound from space.
Seconds tick away, at the top of the hour, the chord of oblivion strikes.
was anything ever really there?
Or was it just a shadow flickering across a barren wall in the starry desert, seen by no one,
ghostly laughter cutting through the gloom from nowhere, heard by no one,
Cold emotion, left in an empty room in the distant past, felt by no one,
Do the stars flash? Or is it we that flicker and die before their omnipotent majesty?
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