The darkness on the balcony was compact as a snowdrift
I had to push it aside to see, and saw the familiar ruin on
the other side of the lane as an island of decay.
Beyond repair now it had once been a stable and housed
mules, when the wind blows I can still sense a whiff of
their sweaty backs and tired muscles.
The darkness had, through the open door, filled every
room with its ominous presence. Switched on every light
but it still hid in corners and behind the bookshelf.
This was useless, if heroic, undertaken a one man’s war
against the approaching darkness, seeking the light of
understanding, but losing ground to the womb of the world.
