The realm of darkness

I thought of death

As I lay dying,

Trying desperately

To cling to her.

That

vibrant

ray

of new hope:

emerging

then

fading.

In: the darkness.

All shelters over;

all goodbyes unsaid.

Out: dawn, light.

Sprinkles of sand.

Fragments of snow.

Each hour is tedious,

Until you know

it’s your last…

A kaleidoscopic flash

slides from an

ancient projector

flashing

inside

your retinas.

The moment’s

magic, never to

be seen again

by this

particular lifeform,

this ‘one,’

this part of

brahman

again.

A passive act.

Fundamental

and tragic.

Valiant effort;

bygone days;

bygone ways.

Each

fragmentary

being

has a pākata

of these.

They are the shape

of our memories.

Our dwindling

moments.

…

Then, hine-nui-te-pō

comes; she swims

from the darkness

to consume this

fragment:

now is

the hour.

…

One

gasp

remains.

One

final

breath.

my last,

dying,

seconds.

All options

exhausted.

We

finally

cease.

Our emotions:

we die as if

they’re true.

We relinquish them

And are born anew.

Amanda Riddell

September 2024