WHAT WANTS TO COME
Out of that space that she
could not command, could
not direct, could extract
nothing from, except what
was given by the space itself,
out it came—what wanted
to come in its own way—and
she the bystander, the observer,
the one along on the hurtling
ride, though the space itself
was Silence itself, unmoving,
unmoved, unmovable—yet
it drew her in, into its very
within, she who had been with-
out, powerless, hands pressed
against the glass of its sides,
like Alice to the looking-glass,
then she fell, was lifted in,
was absorbed into the all she
saw, the all that was that is,
heard, smelled, touched, tasted,
though none of these senses
were, only the clear light,
yellow on the impending fall,
flooding the field, the transition
of the seasonal air, as Summer
shimmered into non-existence,
and clarity stood in silent
reveling: color and light and
form, falling upon her all.