A vanishing
We are
the gathering,
A stand
in motion,
Vast expanse
of play.
We leave
it all behind
Only to
resurrect it all,
Watching
a sepia playback
Smother
the storm.
Spill it out, black + white,
All the
dates you collected.
Wrap your
calendar in honey,
This ritual
of not knowing.
You’ll
feel it grow inside
From the
smallest seed
Until it’s
the darkest cloud
You’ll
walk beneath.
And then
you’ll disappear.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, July 11, 2020
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