A voice fills the chamber of no sound
bouncing off the interior like weightless rubber.
The feeling of fatigue passes;
raising up in pitch the voice begins to choke.

The inhabitant of the chamber weeps,
wrapped tightly in its arms, rocking soothingly,
perhaps at the center in this chamber of no place.
Sickly, in the high voice of a child it wails.

There are no moments here, no passing time
memories of another left to sleep,
the chamber may only close its doors
and those inside may only know despair.