At Rest

The size of the emptiness

and the sound of the silence

sun warm upon my face

it is too overwhelming to resist

A ballet at the fringe of my mind

Shards of imagery

Snippets of memory

There is no anchor here

Only the reality

of the tree against my back

keeps me from vanishing

into the disorder of my mind

But soon things come together

a clarity forms and I realize

my journey has ended

and the tree I lean against

was my life