There is an emptiness in the atmosphere
just like that in the dream my father shared
as we were leaving
one enigmatic night where hope still whispered.
The environment disintegrates, just like his dream
and outlined figures gather endless fragments
of a tether that was always colored
by distortion,
but it had always been there
and the break is hollowing:
An emptiness in the atmosphere
that was always outlined.
And in the quiet of the vacuum that’s left behind
hands are powerless
to grasp the fleeting threads of mercury
as they are scattered across the universe by the winds of time.