As I sat upon the kitchen floor but 20 minutes ago, I looked down at my hand to notice a small black ant on my wrist.
I could feel it moving around on me as it walked through the dense grassland of my hair.
And through those many small hairs, I was alerted to the foe of kitchens that so innocently scuttled upon me.
But as it stumbled onto my palm, I could not feel it there.
For some reason, a ghastly ocean swept over me, bringing a chill to my spine.
Thinking....What punctured me so deeply at that moment?
Then it hit me.
I was feeling something I had never felt before.
I felt the absence of my senses.
The feeling of emptiness.
The feeling when a person closes there eyes for the last time.
It was not feeling of calmness and settlement, but something far more different.
I was perceiving death.
[scribbled and messy, this entry dates ten years ago.]
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-- W.H. Auden
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