Within

His sleep is silent and seemingly peaceful;
his chest, as it rises and falls, swells with what he knows
and deflates with what he hopes. Light
from the fire, as it flickers and fades, brings life
to his resting form projected on the wall,
pulsing and wavering as each flame gasps
for air. A log collapses in defeat and a snap is heard –
even as he suddenly shifts in his chair, he sleeps on;
his thoughts moving like the wind carries the snow,
dancing from here to there – pausing     for only a moment
until it is sucked once again into another
directionless swirl. It is not known where it will stop
to finally rest, until the wind blows away
and the darkness peels back to reveal what is hidden:
a memory that cannot be forgotten, and a
hope to reach what lay untouched, unbroken, and undisturbed.
With nothing left to inhale, the fire dies
and the flames are extinguished. The old man sighs,
the room is darkened,
and he descends into his dreams, soft and soundlessly.











©Shelley Marie 2012