On the wall a shimmer hints of motion, teases still. Scarlet woman then but sanguine now, i splice acquiescent moon – to hang your shadow, maybe, in the empty space. All those missing moments, shades that clouded night, they are suspended now – aimless and immobile. In epicentric heave a lightning snap delivers life from death. Motion soothes an ache of time so my back is still against the wall.
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forget me now 
wonderfully deep and beautifully composed; this was a lovely prose poem indeed…
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Welcome, Sumedh … thank you so much for your kindest of words!
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Not nothings. It’s either a prose poem or you can chop it up into delicious little verses, too (as you’re probably more than aware :)). There are some truly gorgeous lines in there and (half) rhymes. You really do have an ear for the music in the language.
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ohhhh so good to see you, Ario .. i hope you are recovering … i’ve been worried about you and the back-damage! *humph ….
i have tried this in stanzas … switched between and beyond, only settling for prosepoem/ish here because the rhythm felt like it mattered most .. so what you said about the music of it means the world to me THANK YOU! x
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*heh .. this responding in your post isn’t really going to fly is it? *lmao
thank you thank you thank you …
you “get” me, doncha!
“In epicentric heave” is just superb, the sound and movement of it contain and express exactly the energy it describes. Onomatopaeic aesthetic unity, fantabulous writing.
Extraordinary prose poem. There and not there, energy contained in the movement from light to shadow, stillness and motion, hiding and revealing. And beautiful rhythm and sound.