When all the world is liquid — with sound



When all the world was stone, we clung together on solid cliffs, anchored in hearts, feelings like isthmuses and islands; places to dance.

When all the world was air,  the sound  and scent of you floated past walls and corners, a crystal laugh, shattered silence, attuned to familiar voices; nothing so certain.

When all the world was light, it gathered in your eyes, gave paths to follow, joy to hold; draw me in.

Before the world turned dark.

The things that bind us, release; the things that hold, forget.

The places once filled with us are void.

Somewhere the last polar bear treads on shattered ice, a world gone wrong,   somewhere on a silent sea; somewhere we drift, dancing no more, the air untuned, the light smudged; what once a voice, silent.

When all the world is liquid, the last scent of you will be gone, dissolved  from our lives, thin air at the edge of the universe, radio  waves cast adrift,  bumping once and again into a memory.

About michaelstephendaigle

I have been writing most of my life. I am the author of the award-winning Frank Nagler Mystery series. "The Swamps of Jersey (2014); "A Game Called Dead" (2016) -- a Runner-Up in the 2016 Shelf Unbound Indie Author Contest; and "The Weight of Living" (2017) -- First Place winner for Mysteries in the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards Contest.
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2 Responses to When all the world is liquid — with sound

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