There comes the night, With a shroud to envelop us all, Yet, while we do not see, We hear, a rumbling still remains, We breathe, a deep breath, We smell the chemicals, The impurities left by the day. A cleansing is upon us, There are many like it. This one is unique, For this one is now.

I talk, I hear no voice, A tightness marks it's presence around my neck, My vocal chords imobilized.

I reach my hand to feel, To sense what lies beyond the shroud, Yet no hand moves, No pleasure felt, no pain, no struggle. A void has reached my fingertips.

I walk, to feel the passing, To move the body, To sense the past at my back, And the wind of the future at my front. Yet nothing, my face lies empty; My feet, do not respond, There is no space to walk, The void, in the darkness of the shroud.