There's a void.
I recognize the echo
in the lack of sound.

The 3 a.m. world
stares at me through the window.
The snow strives to conceal the void,
though ends dissolved in the warmth of
my blood.

So I stand sensing the void,
embracing the void,
being the void.
I stand serene.

(And the snow falls,
and the blood flows,
yet I stand - numb.)