You sit in the gloom and wonder how you arrived
At this small dark place
You visited before and vowed not to return
The bars at the window, the reinforced door
The bed that you lie on that will never be home
You cover, recover and cover old ground, the stories of your life tapped out
In rhythmic repetition by a familiar key you don’t recognise but fits well in your hand
Over and over the thoughts go around and the feelings, the feelings, the hard tight painful feelings consume you on and on and on in the gloom
The touch of a heartbeat
The whisper of an almost silent sigh
Who is it that hears? Whose attention is drawn for a moment into a ray of life
That lights up, that warms up, that frees up your mind?
It is not who you think you are that hears, that invites the key into the lock that opens the door that no longer exists.
Be still and listen, only listen, for now and here is your everlasting moment unfolding, unfolding
And you wouldn’t want to miss it.