NINE

The void engulfs you
Within a minute;
The ever present
Void surrounds,
Flouting
Space within
And full ‘til you come down.
The highest feel
In the world of your room and yourself;
That ceiling cling,
That cobweb sheen.
Return to the start and the birth and all else.
And a caller registers you,
Or is it reversed
With a sharp reply
That brings you around.
The telephone ringing
Tells of the time needed to answer it;
Its voice singing more
Than you ever thought beautiful
And resolute and true.