Your absence - this void - exists in a physical sense. Your imprint on this world - the negative space and negative time created in your wake, by your being - is tangible. I reach in front of myself to touch the mould that you have impressed upon the fabric of existence.
This displacement of reality comes at a cost; the fabric of the universe must move elsewhere when acted upon by my force. It cannot stay suspended in the seeming stability of still air.
But why not? Is it unfair that we two should know each other yet never touch? Or is it just the laws of the universe? The nature of reality? The motif of a silhouette?
How much does a shadow weigh?
[i]- Copyright Timothy Michael McNeil, 2016 Dedicated to two very good friends who deserve the world...[/i]
