It’s silent here. But not.
There is this hum,
and if you listen very still
there is this buzz as well,
this long high tone of energy connecting.
I don’t know if it’s in my head or out beyond.
Stark and still,
light and dark,
cold and chill,
statue limbs of trees
reach out to grasp the fading blue.
Look very close and keen and see they move
… just there …. on that edge
Close your eyes and colours swirl in darkness,
in time the black becomes a shimmered pearly white,
and that energy tone climbs sharp
as the colours go over the edge,
into that abyss
Over that edge of perception,
through those Mr Huxley doors.
It doesn’t matter on which side of it you
hover, shimmer & fall,
because you can always swap sides.
Just open your eyes.
Still healing then …. back from the edge to which necrotising fasciitis takes you.