a strange sense of foreboding

i confess
that sometimes
i am almost consumed
by a strange sense
of foreboding
that arrives
like a shroud
and threatens 
to haunt me
and terrify me to death.

and then i remember
to look closer
and i see
that the shroud of fear
is actually
an old sheet
dragged along
from the past,
no more than
a memory.

as i watch,
the sheet itself
falls to the ground
in a crumpled heap
and i am returned to
this moment
free of all haunting
and foreboding.

everything that is not
love
is an illusion.
Swimming Pool copy

Advertisements

One thought on “a strange sense of foreboding

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s