Pelgris

Coursing motes streak through veins
Each sharp as splintered hopes
Each cold as night with no moon in the dark of winter
Calling out
We are seen
We are known
And in the blind truth of waking
We find ourselves alive
Alive in silence
The deep quiet that shakes the world
Slower breathes
Deeper
The kiss of a world made distant by constant noise
Rediscovery
With the vain hope of holding on
To a few more hours
Of being whole