Bell Tolls

In the calm,

A location bereft,

Of sound,

Of activity,

Of ambition,

A bell tolls,

A church bell…

“How”?

The traveler wonders

Who rang it?

For there isn’t anybody,

Solitary,

Lifeless,

Ghost-like.

 

 

The sound chimes,

A ripple in a sea,

Otherwise calm,

Undisturbed,

Still,

Lifeless,

Ghost-like.

 

It disturbs him,

His slumber,

He is weary,

That traveler is,

Tired,

Still,

Almost lifeless,

Not quite ghost-like.

 

It keeps him awake,

Much to his disdain,

The sound,

There is water,

From within,

That sound.

 

 

The traveler peers in,

Curious,

Water in sound?

The bell rings on,

The water drops.

 

It drops steady,

As if in rhythm,

With the sound,

It falls on his face,

Surprised, he peers.

 

He sees eyes,

The traveler does,

Not his own,

Of course!

But of another,

A woman,

A pair of eyes,

Smudged with water,

With tears,

Her tears,

With grief,

Her grief,

With fear.

 

The sound continues,

To chime,

Like an opera,

A symphony of the lost,

Or of the broken,

Or perhaps the bent.

 

He can see,

Her face now,

It seems familiar,

Like from a dream,

Or an erstwhile reality,

Or a broken present,

Or a forgotten past,

Or maybe

A lost future…

 

He tries to talk,

To her, he does.

Words cheat him,

Sounds allure him,

Out of his grasp,

A tired grasp.

 

The only sound,

The bell,

Of course,

Intensifies,

As he tries,

Vision blurs,

He senses more water,

Rivulets now,

Endless.

 

Try as he would,

His grip slackens,

His hope wanes,

His darkness grows,

Sleep beckons,

Water still flows.

 

He embraces it,

The night,

As it beckons,

The sound dies,

He hears nothing,

He sees nothing,

He feels nothing,

As he lies there,

Undisturbed,

Still,

Lifeless,

A ghost.