-symphony of the ekg-

tick-

a soul cries out

for reconciliation

as he closes his eyes

and sees a granule, a grain

a mote of sand

plummeting in midair

it stops.

he stares at the stucco

it is stained with the smell

of disinfectant

and dispensed coffee

while the white-clad vultures

flock to her eagerly.

in desperation

he peers into

the aged hourglass

pleading for it to move again

but he is answered

by the staccato thrum

of rain hitting glass

he sinks in his seat

fingers numbed

and hopes the light

above the theatre door

will soon know darkness.

but the shadow

behind the sundial

refuses to waver

and she is but a distant

memory of the skin,

the knowledge that

her touch upon his arm

may be forever lost

kills him a little

inside.

the hands are silenced

-tock.

~ by blazerknight on 25/09/2007.