There could be fog
or maybe just a mist
and inexplicadly i'll fade to white, Vanish, and be
gone.

Or it could be night
and i'll be darkly dressed
evading easy definition
and as your eyes distracted
by a falling leaf
i'll merge restless shadows
and be gone.

Then you will discover
what emptiness is
a space so hollow
even it's own walls are swallowed up.

A quality of missing
so intense
a lack, a lack....

Each hour more bottomless then the last, until your heart
cries out,
a howl of forfeiture.

But it will be nothing
ashen silence where i used to sing, and deafness

The howl must strike, the right resonant frequency, a wail
that echoes
all to the ends of time, to fill the gaping void in whole,
looping
wavelengths from the well of your soul, such loneliness,
to make Siberian
wolves hang heads from shame in their convivial paks

Then only then
might you detect my footprints, but I'll be gone...