Nothing inspired and nothing expressed.
Time stops as a vacuum forms inside.
It envelopes the universe.
Breathing, I recall, creates movement. I notice I can’t move;
can’t go beyond.
This stillness holds no memories, no future plans.
This empty now.
An electric fan whirring finds my ears and notes from the radio seem to drop
as unrelated events.
I listen for lost heart songs once made of memories and future plans.
The fan again.
It seems so loud just now.
In this now.
This empty, empty now.