It was as if the world had stopped.
I laid still, lifted my eyelids, body static.
Only the rhythmic swish of my breath in and out of my nose.
Silence, like cling film wrapped tightly over my morning experience.
Light was pale grey through the slats of the bedroom blind. My body warm, naked, soft and heavy under the covers, filled with the residue of dreams and a flickering memory of you. Irregular, like a broken neon sign.
Eyelids resigned – closed.
My tiredness all used up, I listened – more acutely now – without the distraction of sight. Where were the birds? There are trees where I live and always birdsong, even at night sometimes, from rooftop to tree branch, a melodic, dotted line trail.
Where is the traffic? There are roads where I live too.
The thick, high pitched throb of too much quiet beat in my ears – is this my own blood? Is it my heart I hear translated in my head as a steady, rolling, whooshing noise? Like the sound of the sea from far away, individual waves not discernible as they crash to shore just the sensation of power and movement, I am.
My life, a sound. All else turned down so that finally, I hear it. I am.
I sense the soundless slowing down of everything outside of me, the slow motion, the stop. The world ending. I am not afraid.
Peaceful curiosity remains.
Impressions of something graceful moving slowly, like a glowing jellyfish in a darkened tank, amorphous, mesmerising, fluid, perfect.
I find myself situated equally in the awareness of my body and the consciousness of my whole being. Thought slowed to the treacly pace of a sleeping heartbeat and suddenly I sense the gaps, feel the spaces in between.
I realise I have been watching the positive shapes fill the emptiness all my life and only now do I see the delicate filigree of negative space.
Like an optical illusion once seen, it becomes obviously, stunningly clear.
I delight in the newness of it and wonder how I could have missed it for all this time.